<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Again (Let's Do) The Time Warp by BairnSidhe</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673054">Again (Let's Do) The Time Warp</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BairnSidhe/pseuds/BairnSidhe'>BairnSidhe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Everyone is a First Year, Gen, Good Severus Snape, Hufflepuff Was The Scary One, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Non-Humans Are Valid, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Murder Salad, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Severus Snape Needs a Hug, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel Fuck-It-Back-Up, non-binary characters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:07:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BairnSidhe/pseuds/BairnSidhe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Time-Travel fix it AU where Harry goes back in time.  HE ends up in his 11 year old body, but in the same YEAR as his parent's first year.  So he has to redo school, fix the shit between Lily and Snape (while also not preventing his parents from hooking up) stop his Dad being a colossal twat, stop Sirius from being a colossal twat, stop Pettigrew from being an evil twat, and maybe also do something about Voldemort except said Dork Lord has no idea his greatest foe is at Hogwarts and it's Very Inconvenient to go to him, while stuck at school most of the year.</p><p>Needless to say, the Chosen One has run out of fucks to give.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Best of the time travel and SI/OCs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One: Wherein Trains Are More Interesting Than Strictly Necessary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkyriePhoenix/gifts">ValkyriePhoenix</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a blanket Author's Note in response to the wack action of the Canon Creator: </p><p>This fic supports trans rights.  This fic supports people of color and women and queer and disabled folk too.  This fic is strongly opposed to Nazis, fascism, and bullies in general.  If you are upset by any of these statements, the back button is right there.  The Author does not have time to debate or educate you, and frankly doesn't care to.  If you keep reading and get upset by any of these stated stances, you only have yourself to blame.</p><p>If on the other hand you spot an instance of insensitivity or poorly handled representation, please leave a comment letting the Author know.  If it can be fixed, it will be fixed.  If it can not, the offending content will be removed.  If that is not possible (unlikely but prepared for) tags will be added as appropriate.  The Author is not perfect and knows this.  That does not mean the Author will not be trying to be better.</p><p>Thank you for reading this, my Dear Ones.  Now, on to the story!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry goes back in time to First Year.  But not his own First Year, no, that would be easy and Harry Potter never gets to do anything easy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter begins in the end of Deathly Hallows, when Harry has "died" and met Ghost Dumbledore.  It diverges when he <em>doesn't</em> go back to Hogwarts.  Canon events can be assumed to be the same up to this point, although perspective and emotion about said events may be inconsistent.  The Author reserves the right to fuck with canon as needed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry had been standing in the ghostly recreation of Kings Cross Station for a minute, trying to make sense of what the ghost of Albus Dumbledore had said, and wondering if he could actually go back, when a Centaur arrived.</p><p>“Harry Potter,” the Centaur said solemnly.  This was, of course, the usual way Centaurs spoke.  Harry nodded.  “You have not returned to the world of the living.”</p><p>“No shit?  I hadn’t noticed,” Harry said sarcastically.  This was his own usual way of speaking, and the Centaur didn’t seem to take offence.</p><p>“We cannot return you to when you died, but we must return you,” the Centaur said.  “Since your death, it has become… very obvious you are needed.  The spells to do this cannot be completed by wizards, but Centaurs, House Elves, Goblins, and... others have powers human wizards cannot fathom.  We will return you, and you must be prepared.”</p><p>“I mean, if nobody else can fix it,” Harry said with a shrug.  “Might as well be me.  What do I do?”</p><p>“Get on the train,” the Centaur said, waving at the red engine pulling up to the platform.  “Time heals many wounds, and as we must wound time to fix what has been broken, you will see it healing around you.  Do not question the healing, accept it and move forward, drawing it with you as you travel the streams of Time.  Do not tell Wizards of your travel, for they will covet what cannot be theirs.  Seek out that which can be fixed, and be assured, everything you have seen, have endured, you endured for a reason.  Use the knowledge you have to heal the damage of the past.”</p><p>“So, no pressure,” Harry said with a sigh.  “Catch you on the flip side.”</p><p>***</p><p>The train lurched as it sped up after a turn.  Harry threw his hand out instinctively to catch himself and stared for a moment at his hand.  He’d gotten used to the scar, the one on his right hand that read <em>I Must Not Tell Lies</em>.  It had been there for two… three years, now?</p><p>The hand he was looking at now was unblemished.  Small, a bit out of proportion, but unmarked, unscarred, except for the small, red crescent where Dudley had dug his thumbnail into the web of the thumb and forefinger the day before that first train ride to Hogwarts.  The red crescent was still tender.</p><p><em> Okay, so, I’m eleven again </em> , Harry thought.  Not so bad.  He could redo it, get them on Quirrell’s case from the get go, steal the Sorcerer’s Stone… hmm, during Christmas break.  Hide it, defend it, oust Quirrell. <em>  Right, that’s a plan.  </em></p><p>He stepped out into the center aisle and prepared to go find Ron.  Instead he bumped chests with a taller boy, fell, and for a second had the strangest feeling he was looking up at Draco Malfoy, for all that the boy who’d knocked into him had artfully tousled, black hair, not neatly combed white.</p><p>“Bit of a bumpy ride, eh?” the boy asked, and held out a hand to help Harry up.  “Name’s Potter, Jim Potter.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. Fuck. </em>
</p><p>“Um, I’m Harry,” Harry said, casting about for a name that wasn’t also Potter.  Somehow he doubted that would go over well, even if it was a fairly common name out in the Muggle world.  “Dursley.  Harry Dursley.”</p><p>
  <em> WHY THE FUCK DID I SAY THAT? </em>
</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Dursley,” James… Jim… <em> Harry’s Dad </em> said.</p><p>“Please just call me Harry, I um… I don’t get on well with my… with the Dursleys.”</p><p>James made a sad face.  “It’s okay.  Sirius here doesn’t like his either.”</p><p>“Black sheep have to stick together,” Sirius said, and Harry blinked.  He knew everyone had regrettable haircuts in their past, but he hadn’t expected to ever see his Godfather with a bowl cut.  The smirk was familiar though.  Almost annoyingly familiar.  Oh gods, this was the time when they were all utter prats still, wasn’t it?  He was going to have to stop them from being <em> murderous </em> prats, wasn’t he?  Internally, Harry sighed.</p><p>Externally, he’d frozen up and the two future Marauders had taken that as consent to bundle him off with them into a sitting cab.  They were chatting about spells they wanted to learn and Quidditch and James was solicitously explaining bits to Harry, although not enough at any given time to help someone who really didn’t know about the sport.  Harry wondered why he was explaining, but another glance down at his body answered that.  He was in the same outfit he’d worn the first time around.  A threadbare sweatshirt, inherited jeans from Dudley that had started baggy but at this point were on the edge of too small, and formerly-white trainers.  <em> Not </em> wizarding clothes.  He looked like the Muggleborn he was raised as.</p><p>A girl stuck her head in the car.  Harry drew an awkward breath and froze, again.  Beside him, James started coughing like he’d swallowed his tongue.</p><p>Her eyes, exactly like those in the mirror, locked onto Harry’s.  There was a long moment, and then she smiled.</p><p>“Room for two more in here?”</p><p>“Yep,” Harry said.  “I’m Harry, this is James, and Sirius.  Although from what I can tell, he isn’t.”</p><p>Sirius gave him a confused look before blinking.  “Huh.  That’s almost a new one.  Normally I get jokes about the Dog Star.”</p><p>“Thanks, I’ll be here all week, don’t forget to tip the waitress,” Harry said and Lily laughed as she introduced herself and her friend, Severus.</p><p>The ride was awkward at first.  James and Sirius were the most outgoing, shortly followed by Lily, but Harry didn’t need to hear about last year’s Quidditch season, and Severus seemed to <em> deeply </em> not care, and that was all the boys wanted to talk about.</p><p>“So, what subjects are you looking forward to?” he asked.</p><p>“Hmm, Charms sounds fun,” Lily said.  “Mr. Olivander said my wand would be good for Charms.  What about you?”</p><p>Harry suddenly felt a stab of panic.  His own wand was damaged, and he’d dropped Draco’s wand when he went to the forest to die.  Hopefully, the magic that sent him here would have also restored his wand, like it did his unblemished right hand.</p><p>“Defense,” Harry squeaked out, realizing he’d left the answer to hang too long.</p><p>“Got delusions of glory?” Sirius asked.  Harry rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Got a basic grasp of history,” Harry countered.  “I have no desire to be ripped to shreds by a blood supremacist, and I’d like to know how to protect myself and others.”</p><p>Sirius blanched and Harry almost winced.  He’d managed to forget that HIS Sirius was an adult, one with trauma, but one who knew his family wasn’t a reflection of his self.  One who had already done the hard work of pulling free of the Black attitudes.  THIS Sirius was still a child, still forming his opinions about the whole issue, and reminding him that several of his relatives would be perfectly fine killing his new friends… wasn’t the most tactful.</p><p>Meanwhile, Lily was giving him a worried look.  Great, he’d gone and worried everyone.  Harry shrugged, and turned to look out the window.</p><p>***</p><p> “Want anything from the trolley, dear?” asked the witch pushing the trolley.  Harry could almost swear she was the same woman who worked this job in his own time, but her face was softer, lighter, even beyond having fewer wrinkles.</p><p>“Um.”  He patted his pockets absently.  “No thanks.”</p><p>“My treat,” Sirius said.</p><p>“Okay.  Pumpkin pasty, then, please.”</p><p>“You two?” Sirius asked Lily and Severus.  Young Snape made a strange face, confused and suspicious, but Lily smiled and nodded.</p><p>“What he’s having then,” she said.  “One each, if that’s all right.”</p><p>“Sure,” Sirius said, and passed coins to the witch who distributed the pasties.  </p><p>Harry liked pumpkin pasties for their filling nature, they were a fast and cheap way to stave off hunger.  From the way Severus tucked in, he wasn’t the only one who used them like that.  Food softened the generally awkward air of the cab, and eventually they started having a proper conversation about what Hogwarts was going to be like.</p><p>“Mm, the stairs move, by the way,” he told Lily.  “Actually relocating, not just the steps going like escalators.  You’ve got to watch out for that, although there is a pattern to it, so once you know that it can be faster to get from place to place.”</p><p>“How’d you know that?” James asked.</p><p>“I read about it in Hogwarts, A History,” Harry said, and mentally thanked Hermione.</p><p>“Never read it, is it any good?” James asked.</p><p>“Kinda boring, but it had some things that seemed useful,” Harry said.  “Like, you can’t apparate or disapparate onto or off of school grounds, you have to go into Hogsmeade to do that.  I know we won’t learn that for a while yet, but it’s still good to know.”</p><p>“Bit of a nerd, aren’t you, Dursley?” James asked.</p><p>Harry set his face in a deeply unimpressed stare.  He let it get awkward, then twitched his brow up.  “It may be different, growing up in it, but I’m still rather excited to be going to a <em> Magic.  School.  </em> We read books about magic, you know.  Whole big series of fantasy stories about wizards and fairies and elves and such.  Muggles don’t lack magic for want of <em> wanting, </em> you know.  Forgive me if I want to know everything.”</p><p>James blushed, and Harry excused himself to visit the washroom.</p><p>Safely behind closed doors, he buried his face in his hands and gave a muffled scream between gritted teeth.  He was going to need to get the materials for a calming draught as soon as he could, or he was going to kill his own father before he was born.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The setting chosen for the body of this work is 1971.  An attempt will be made to keep things reasonably historically accurate, accounting for the anachronism of Wizard Society.  This said, there's hardly any canon on this era and in many cases RE: Wizard History, the Author will be making things up as we go.</p><p>Moldywarts was NOT the first evil twatwaffle to go the blood supremacy route, per canon.  The last case was Grindlewald who was the direct parallel and contemporary of Hitler.  Wizards would not have been exempt from the Blitz, even if richer families could afford to stay out of the records and thus the Draft.  Thus, Harry's statement about history can be interpreted as referring to either of these.</p><p>Pumpkin is a nutrient dense food that even contains a certain amount of protein, while still being fairly easy to digest.  This is great for people coming off starvation diets like Harry and Severus.  (Harry's body at this point has all the nutritional deficits of being fed off the Dursley's scraps, despite the Elder Dursleys being nine at the moment.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Two: In Which Accessories Prove Difficult</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two: In Which Accessories Prove Difficult</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Sorting Hat has some opinions about Harry, and is happy to share them at full volume.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time for my traditional Love Fest!  The readers are what make this whole fanfic thing fun for me, and comments and kudos are a major part of that.  So I'm officially thanking Puzzle, ValkyriePhoenix, Gabby, quadrad, Trickster32, Joey99, IantoLives, LaughingCat, willowfire, hhhellcat, and 6suicidalmaniac9 for their comments, and Prowler, 6suicidalmaniac9, AllroundYaoiFangirl, RakashiaDraconis, ArwenScamander, GinaMarieSoul, plutoslittlehuman, MasterDeski, TimeWandrer, Chroma, Nerdygirl99, StarlitDawn, OrguMiMi, 11Look_Behind_You11, willowfire, Yee_Jun, LaughingCat, lafbnz, Esseraph, IantoLives, melibz, Joey99, Trickster32, Yamiblue, slothsquirrel, Allukaap, and ValkyriePhoenix for their kudos.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arriving at Hogwarts was much the same as Harry remembered.  They were rowed across the lake, although Hagrid hadn’t insisted on getting Harry in his boat this time, and instead they were midway back on the fleet of rowboats that followed Hagrid’s guidance on the rudder of the lead boat.  The lights of Hogwarts were just as beautiful viewing them above the lake, almost floating in the dark,as they were the first time he'd made this trip. The first-years gathered outside the Great Hall, and rumors floated about how they’d be sorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry braced as the names were called, starting with Abbot, Elias, and proceeding onwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Black, Sirius!” called McGonnegal.  Harry patted him affably on the back as he passed up to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The C’s passed without much fuss, then most of the D’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then came Dobson, Catherine… and Dylan, Ross.  No stopping for Dursley, Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s missed your name,” James whispered in fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure it’s a simple mistake,” Lily whispered back, but then her name was called, and she left, shooting a worried glance over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shifted nervously, and tried to grab a glance at “Lupin, Remus” before the boy werewolf slipped through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pettigrew, Peter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stumbled into James as his body did a full shudder, as though trying to shake off a bucket of slime dumped on his head.  He hadn’t really thought about it, but a chance to help his parents meant a chance to undo Pettigrew’s betrayal before it happened.  A chance to cost the Dark Lord the follower who would give him back a body.  The idea had an appeal, but if it was hard to figure out how to make his Dad less of a prat, then how on Earth would he fix </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pettigrew?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potter, James!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, see you soon?” James whispered.  Harry nodded and gave him a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m going to vomit,” Severus said.  Harry put his hand on the other boy’s neck and pressed the pressure point there with his thumb.  “What, why does that feel better?  Don’t stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to soon,” Harry said, as “Shacklebolt, Kingsley” stepped through the door.  “You’ll make it.  Don’t worry.  You are who you need to be, and you aren’t alone.  Frankly, I pity anything that tries to go through Lily to get to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus laughed.  “She’s my best friend,” he said, and then his name was called and he stepped away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stood still, trying to maintain a look of calm he didn’t feel.  He did the breathing exercises that helped in summoning a Patronus.  When everyone was gone, McGonnegal looked over her half-rim spectacles at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was your name called?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Ma’am,” Harry answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what is your name?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry… Dursley?” he said, half hoping to be shot down immediately for suggesting anyone named Dursley should be in Hogwarts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm,” she said instead.  “Oh.  Yes, I am quite sorry, I seem to have missed your name.  I’m very sorry, please proceed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all right, Ma’am,” he said, hoping it came out comforting and not snotty.  She couldn’t help that he wasn’t supposed to be here.  Still, he didn’t quite run as he made his way out to the Sorting Hat.  Last, and out of order… great, he was yet again marked as the Weird One, and this time not even for something people know about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat down and lowered the hat slowly, thinking clearly what he’d practiced, hoping to get to the Hat before it issued the verdict.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gryffindor, please," he asked it.  “I know it’s not a perfect fit, not anymore, but all the people… most of the people I need to protect are in Gryffindor, so if you could please put me there, I’d like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Diathan milis, tròcaireach, No!  One Helga Hufflepuff was terrifying enough!" The Hat shrieked in seemingly abject horror, out loud, even, rather than in his head as usual.  "Everybody keeps thinking that because she was a Healer, when the castle came under attack, she sat in a tower wringing her hands!  </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>!  She grabbed a shield she'd put an edge on and went out and tore a bloody swathe through the enemy bigger than either Godric's or Salazar's, dragged the idiots back into the castle, patched them up, prodded Salazar and Rowena into improving the wards, said if the blood splatter didn't go 12 ells up and 12 ells out it wasn't GOOD ENOUGH, then chased Godric around the training grounds from sunrise to sundown every day for WEEKS until she was sure he could keep up!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...Fuck you, you stupid accessory, I hope you get lice,” Harry mumbled, pulling the Hat off.  The Great Hall was strangely quiet, staring at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” the Hat grumbled, more quietly.  “HUFFLEPUFF!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The table sporting yellow and black erupted in a cheer.  Harry glared at the Hat and went to join his new House.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hufflepuff Dorm was on the ground floor, it turned out, not in the basements where rumor had placed it.  However, he did see where that rumor had come from, as the route they took led them down into the first floor of basements, just before the technical start of the dungeons, and then up a flight of stairs hidden behind a trick suit of armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to Badger’s Den,” said their Prefect.  “Welcome to Hufflepuff House.  We don’t do things like the other houses, and we’re happy about that.  You are not on your own here, you are one of us, and we will look out for you.  Every first year will be paired off with an older student.  They are responsible for helping you learn the things you don’t learn in classes.  How the stairs move, where the shortcuts are, how to get snacks from the kitchen after curfew… the important bits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone laughed, even Harry.  He remembered his first night poorly, awash in the misty nostalgia that accompanied his few truly happy memories, but he did recall being sent up to find his bed with Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus.  Not being given a mentor and a cookie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sturgis Podmore,” said his mentor by way of introduction.  “I’m lucky, I was almost without a Kit this year, since we take them by seniority and I was the last on the list.  If you hadn’t come I would’ve had to wait a year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kit?” Harry asked, feeling bemused.  Podmore handed him another cookie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby badgers are called ‘kits’ and well, first year Hufflepuffs,” he explained.  “I’m also pretty excited to have you, specifically, as my Kit, since nobody’s ever seen the Hat do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It didn’t have to be so rude about it,” Harry grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sturgis laughed.  “Oh, you see rude, but you’ll learn.  That was a healthy respect, one that’s mostly lacking and we like it like that.  Everyone underestimates us, see?  We’re the hard work house, not the daring heroics house, or the powerful politics house, or the crazy intelligence house.  Our strength comes from our House, not the other way around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean it shouldn’t have said it,” Harry said sheepishly.  “I meant it was LOUD, and it was ON my head at the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fair, honestly,” Sturgis said.  “It could have been more respectful of your ears.  But I’m still pleased as punch to get to show you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Sturgis meant it.  The first week, Harry was never more than a few feet from Sturgis outside of classes.  The Hufflepuff third year knew enough shortcuts that even with walking Harry to all his classes, he still made his own.  In the Great Hall, they sat next to each other.  In the common room, Sturgis picked seats close to Harry, even if there wasn’t a good place next to him.  It was almost awkward, but also endearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It mainly meant Harry barely got to see the people he was actually worried about helping.  He deeply longed for his Invisibility Cloak, but that Cloak was technically James’s and probably in his trunk up in the tower right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re twitchy, today.  What’s up, Kit?” Sturgis asked at lunch on Friday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I met some people on the train up here and I was hoping to get to spend more time with them, but they’re all in other houses,” Harry said, craning his neck to see if he could spot the Marauders. They had to have met by now, unless something he did messed up time and put someone in the wrong House.  He tried to remember what the Centaur had said in the misty train station of the place after death, about time healing itself around him.  It was still eating at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which houses?” Sturgis asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, I think most of them ended up in Gryffindor, but I’m pretty sure one of them might be in Slytherin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have Defense with the Gryffindors today,” Sturgis pointed out.  “And you’re picking up the hang of the stairs really fast, if you like I’ll give you some space tomorrow, since there’s no classes.  It’s just really easy to get lost or stuck on a landing with no stairs, or I wouldn’t be hounding your steps so hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fair,” Harry said, thinking of all the times he’d been almost-late the first time around.  Making sure new students could actually navigate was certainly more responsible than what Gryffindors did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Defense was… less exciting than Harry remembered.  Possibly due to the teacher being unlikely to be trying to kill him.  He managed to slip in beside Lily.  He wrote a note asking how her first week had gone on his parchment and deeply wished for a less awkward writing implement.  One year of not using quills while on the run had him spoilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lily looked at the note and wrote her response under it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been fine, but I’m still angry at the Hat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why are you angry at the Hat?  I mean, I know why I am, but why’re you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>According to the Hat, I’m in Gryffindor because I really OUGHT to be in Slytherin with Sev.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That makes no sense?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I KNOW!  Something about attempting to pair a</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Hufflepuff's egalitarianism with a Slytherin's ambition and a Ravenclaw's smarts means I can only possibly go in Gryffindor because “Holy Fuck did you make your life harder on purpose, or what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Hat swore?  It didn’t swear with me, and it was pretty vehement all the same.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I saw.  No, that’s my own embellishment of the general feeling.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck the Hat, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harry wrote back, sharing a smile with Lily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mister Dursley, would you care to demonstrate the Wand Lighting charm?” asked the teacher.  Given that Harry knew nobody stayed in the job more than a year until Voldemort died the first time, he hadn’t bothered making note of her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up and swished his wand (thankfully restored by the time travel) in the upward leading loop of Lumos, saying the charm as well.  He could do it silently, but he wasn’t sure that a first year should know that.  A pure white light glowed at the tip, radiating heat as far down as Harry’s hand.  Honestly, an electric torch would be more effective and more comfortable.  He swished the wand in the crescent wave of Nox, again saying it out loud, then sat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe that we covered the Wand Extinguishing Charm,” the teacher said, raising a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was in the book,” Harry said.  “Along with the warning that Lumos can </span>
  <em>
    <span>set our wands on fire </span>
  </em>
  <span>if we aren’t careful.  I thought maybe I shouldn’t push it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pursed her lips, but the incident passed without much fuss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed as the professor turned back to her lecture and risked a glance back at Lily. She was sitting rigidly straight and facing forwards, but her lips were pinched together in a look eerily reminiscent of Hermione trying not to laugh in class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least someone was having fun.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:<br/>Diathan milis, tròcaireach: Sweet, merciful gods<br/>Ell: a unit of measure approximating from the sternum of an adult to their fingertips, about 45 inches or 1.14 meters.</p><p>Notes:<br/>Time heals itself behind the surgical change of inserting Harry.  We see that in the list changing to accommodate Harry as soon as Minerva knows the name he's using.  She didn't miss it, it wasn't there.  Now it is.  So are records indicating his acceptance and placement in classes.</p><p>I am taking liberties with the canon, as the canon is notably sparse on certain important details.  If you see something that contradicts canon, ignore it, I likely know and chose to change it.  (Such as not allowing the House of Friendship and Loyalty to have a secret door that drenches people in brine for not knowing the right password.)</p><p>Lily says Fuck.  She is not the only eleven year old to say Fuck, but it does set her and Harry apart a bit, since they're in the minority.  Lily is more careful about not doing it where people will hear, but she does say it.</p><p>Harry isn't going to be at Book One sass levels.  Harry is going to be at Out of Fucks to Give "you don't have to call me Sir, Professor" levels of sass.  As he relaxes he may get more subtle and have a narrower target selection, but the sass will remain.</p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Three: Wherein The Best Laid Plans Of Mice And Men Gang Aft Agley</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three: Wherein The Best Laid Plans Of Mice And Men Gang Aft Agley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Logistics are a necessary evil.  Doing them alone?  Not so necessary when you're in the Badger's Den.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love Fest! This one goes out to enrapturedreader quadrad, CampionSayn, willowfire, Trickster32, GinaMarieSoul, Joey99, LadyLaran, LaughingCat, Josh Spicer (joshspicer), hhhellcat, ValkyriePhoenix, AllroundYaoiFangirl, IantoLives, Lightseed, and 6suicidalmaniac9 for comments, and to violet569, PsychosisByOsmosis, Lulena29, AvengersSummerHome, Ssybalong, EtelkaEtana, annicka02, Void_19Winchester, seeltz, YaoiWolf, Talee, pcube, Begrudgingly_Voracious_Reader, Hufflepuff_16, Pigeonat, Dev_454, hhhellcat, loveagreatread, rosaamarilla, Saralegui, goldenzingy46, LadyLaran, Zephiera, Harym42, tryllesofbirds, Cat_aquarius, bedheadredhead, PotionsChaos, HappyTr33, CampionSayn, quadrad, enrapturedreader, Cleaea, ShadeVermillion, Kokiri_kid, Gbadvocate09, amd Madrone for kudos.</p><p>The title is a reference to a decidedly amazing poem in Scottish Dialectic English, "To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest With the Plough, November, 1785" by Robert Burns.  Burns is 100% Hufflepuff, and I will fight people on this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Saturday morning, Harry got up early.  He technically didn’t have to, none of his dorm-mates were even awake when he finished getting ready.  However, he knew from hard-won experience that if he let his sleep schedule drift, it renormalized in a semi-nocturnal state where he rose at noon.  He had no desire to sleep through classes, even if he already knew the material.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he used the extra time to formulate a Plan.  While he didn’t know what all would happen that year as he did his own first year, he DID know he didn’t have anywhere to live after the year was over.  Winter breaks he could stay here, but by summer he needed a plan to provide for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly nixed the idea of getting his own place.  None of the plans he could come up with would produce enough money for rent.  Fortunately, Hermione had been insistent that all three of them know how to enchant, assemble, and re-pack the expanded tent they’d lived in for a year.  The base tent had to be pretty sturdy, though, and he put aside a 50 pound budget to get a good one.  Bless inflation, although he had no idea how that would interact with the Wizarding to Muggle currency conversion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Food was another concern.  He could enchant dust into food, but it would still hold the same nutritional value… that is, none at all.  He looked too young to work, but could make a certain amount of money doing odd jobs, perhaps skiv at the backs of restaurants, trading under-the-table dish washing for leftover food.  He still needed something he could do to lay by some funds while he got a good system set up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry put his quill to parchment to make another note, only to find his ink was dry.  Honestly, fuck the tent, he would give his left arm for a never ending pack of ballpoints and mechanical pencils.  Quills were stupid and hard to use and you frequently lost your flow of thought getting them re-inked or trimmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea.  Some quick maths proved it would actually be fairly profitable, especially if he could get a big enough supply.  That would mean going “home” on Winter Break to stock up, and he needed to do something here to get a supply of cash, but he could turn enough of a profit on black market stationary to get a decent tent-home, stay fed, and buy robes for next year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he just had to figure out the first step… and getting that nest egg might be harder than stealing the Dragon Egg in fourth year!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Harry, you’re up early,” Sturgis said with a wave.  “You have plans to meet up with your friends today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but later.  I don’t think they’re morning people.”  Harry paused, an uncomfortably new thought occurring to him.  He was so used to ‘do it yourself or it won’t get done’ that he hadn’t thought of asking his Housemates for help… but wasn’t that what Sturgis said they were there for?  “Hey Sturgis… can I bounce an idea off you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, Kit,” Sturgis said, and cracked his jaw on a yawn.  “One sec,  Buttons?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A muffled bang sounded in the coat closet nobody used, and Harry now realized why the common room had a coat closet when everyone stored cloaks in their rooms.  A House Elf stepped out of the closet brushing long, knobby hands over their pillowcase, which was a striped affair that had been covered with all sorts of buttons, pins, and other dangly adornments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Master Sturgis?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buttons, meet Harry. Harry, Buttons is a House Elf.  They work in the castle making food, cleaning up what isn’t magically dangerous, and other sorts of things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Harry,” Buttons said, and there was an odd knowing look in their eye Harry didn’t quite know what to do about.  “Master Sturgis will be wanting his morning chocolate, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes please, Buttons,” Sturgis said.  “And I may have carelessly dropped a promotional pin for a color broadcast of last year’s FIFA in the bin in my room.  Oh well, it’s been discarded now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttons smiled and returned to the closet for departure.  The sturdy door muffled the tell tale bang of apparition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t pay them,” Sturgis explained sadly.  “Some long ago ass of the highest order cursed them into slavery.  That doesn’t mean you get to be a git to them, though, and if I find out you’ve been asking for extras without finding a way to compensate them I’ll be having a long word with you about what it means to be a Badger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He liked socks,” Harry said with a startled sob.  He hadn’t expected seeing another of Dobby’s kind to hit him as it did.  “He was strange and violent and almost killed me so many times, but he was a good friend and he liked socks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sturgis, to his credit, didn’t ask questions, just folded Harry into a hug and let him cry it out.  When Harry was done, there were two cups of no longer hot chocolate, and an older student who seemed fully willing to let that little breakdown pass unmentioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a way to earn money at school,” Harry said, his own equilibrium not back to his usual standards.  Unfortunately, an eleven year old body meant an eleven year old’s emotional tranquility, which left </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be desired.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sturgis raised a brow, but said nothing.  He didn’t need to, the look spoke for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wizard money,” Harry clarified.  If he stuck to the truth, he wouldn’t get tripped up as badly.  “My… guardians… barely provided me with what was needed to get on the train in the first place.  They do not </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure Professor Dumbledore would help if you need to be relocated somewhere more supportive,” Sturgis started and Harry shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Professor Dumbledore </span>
  <em>
    <span>addressed </span>
  </em>
  <span>my Hogwarts letter.  I’ve recognized his handwriting.  That letter was addressed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cupboard Under The Stairs</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Number 4, Privet Drive,” Harry explained.  “Sure, they moved me to a bedroom afterwards, but I haven’t forgotten that first letter.  He knew perfectly well where I was living and how, and he did nothing about it.  Forgive me if I don’t trust him yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sturgis looked pale, and promptly pulled Harry into yet another hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t worry about a thing, we’ll find a way to fix this,” the older boy crooned.  “I know you don’t want to take charity, but with House Hufflepuff working together, we’ll find a way to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Harry said, his voice squeaking a bit as he had the stuffing hugged out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’ve got a good grasp of how the stairs move, and I heard you really blew that first Defense class out of the water!  The other Houses don’t pair off their first years like we do, I’m sure some of the Slytherins would love a tutor to help them get the hang of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why Slytherin?” Harry asked.  Sure, Hufflepuff didn’t have the bitter rivalry Gryfindor did, but he had thought most people avoided the so-called ‘dark’ House.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because Ravenclaw would go to war with us for poaching tutoring rights and Gryfindors are a nightmare to teach safety habits,” Sturgis said bluntly. Harry had to admit he was right, at least as far as Gryfindor was concerned. “Meanwhile Slytherins consider it a waste of resources to figure things out for themselves the hard way if someone else has already done the research, and most of them are from wealthy pureblood families and will actually have plenty of Galleons on them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Makes sense, but I’m not sure how to approach them,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what your House is for,” Sturgis said with a grin.  “Finish your chocolate, I’ll get… hmm, Prefect Witwiff ought to be up by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry finished his chocolate.  Despite it being rather cold by now, it was rich and sweet and chased away some of the nervous butterflies in his stomach.  Sturgis returned with a Prefect, Harry assumed the aforementioned Witwiff.  Witwiff had a short, in between sort of haircut that made it hard to guess gender, which was not helped by fine, handsome features and an old broken nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hear you want to get an early start on our inter-house economy, Dursley,” Witwiff said, and their voice did not clear up the question either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I prefer just being called Harry,” Harry said.  “I did not get on with the Dursleys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed,” Witwiff said, seeming casual enough, although their grey eyes went from river stone to tempered steel.  Sturgis must have mentioned the whole cupboard thing.  That may have been a mistake to share.  “Well, come along, Harry.  To the Dungeons!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dungeons led to Slytherin’s Dorms.  Harry had been there before, of course, in disguise, but it was strange to be invited in.  There was something to be said for the relentless cheerfulness of his Housemates, and the general underestimation of the House.  It was probably a good thing everyone thought this was his first time in the plush sitting room with the glass ceiling, as it explained his quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this is a bit early,” said Slytherin’s Prefect-on-Duty.  His white-blonde hair wasn’t as long as it would one day be, but his face was just as cold and harsh as it was when Harry saw it his second year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Lucius, you know Hufflepuffs!” Witwiff said, waving their teacup with a smile that half-closed their eyes.  “We love hard work, and helping people.  And as it happens, Harry here is a bit short on spending money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, negotiations can certainly be opened,” Lucius Malfoy purred.  Harry got the weird feeling this was some form of flirting, but he didn’t know exactly how or why, and he frankly didn’t WANT to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry?  What are you doing here?” someone asked from the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Sev!  I was asking Papa Badger there how to make some pocket money and the next I know he’s got me here to offer tutoring,” Harry explained with a wave at Sturgis, who smiled proudly at the name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.  I can’t afford that, but it would probably be really useful to someone,” Severus said shyly, and Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Snape, you can’t just… ugh.  Witwiff, if any of your accursedly helpful Badgers can effectively teach young Master Snape here why the House of Cunning does not simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>announce</span>
  </em>
  <span> it cannot afford a service, I will personally pay said student ten Galleons for saving me from a frightful and repetitive headache.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t admit you</span>
  <em>
    <span> can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>do anything,” Harry said.  “Saying you</span>
  <em>
    <span> can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>means the person who</span>
  <em>
    <span> can</span>
  </em>
  <span> has an advantage in negotiating a price to do it for you.  Take what Malfoy just said.  He didn’t admit he</span>
  <em>
    <span> couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>teach you, just that it would be welcome if someone else did it, as he finds it aggravating.  However, at the price he offered, that’s about as good as an announcement he thought we couldn’t do it either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Severus said with a thoughtful look.  “And I suppose it’s probably also bad for how you think about things too.  He’s always on about </span>
  <em>
    <span>imagining</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have the power or skill you need, like that makes it easier to get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does,” Harry said, thinking of his first Patronus.  He’d used the knowledge he already had seen himself do it to cast the notoriously tricky spell.  “Positive attitudes are important, and negative attitudes hamstring you.  Don’t make life harder, Sev, it’s already hard enough!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sev nodded.  “You owe him money, Prefect,” he said softly, but Harry caught a glimmer of smugness at the edges of his eyes.  He knew that look, the same one that happened when a much older Professor Snape managed to provoke a student into a burst of spite-studying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus had known perfectly well why you don’t admit weakness… but he’d just made Harry ten Galleons richer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I do, First Year,” Lucius said, not showing any sign of noticing the ruse pulled.  “And that was very impressive, Dursley.  I have a few early intractables, Witwiff.  Mostly staircase balkers and oversharers like Snape here… I’ll subsidize a two week course of assistance out of the House funds for all of them.  Once we’re further into the year we can discuss tutoring assistance and payments for such, but until then, just get them to stop taking the long routes to avoid stairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Standard rates?” Witwiff asked.  Malfoy nodded.  Witwiff smiled.  “Excellent well.  Get me the funds and I’ll take the House cut before giving the rest to the students handling the issue.  Monday, Sturgis and Harry will come collect your wayward snake-lets in the morning and ensure they get to classes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we start Sunday?” Harry asked.  “It’s easier to get over something hard if you dedicate time to it.  If they’re scared of the stairs, it’ll be more effective to start by taking them someplace with predictable shifts and practicing until they get it, not by chivvying them along during actual school hours.  It won’t stick if they have to get to class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good idea,” Witwiff said.  “Tomorrow, then, bright and early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius looked displeased by the idea of getting a batch of first years up before noon on a weekend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We want to get them over the worst of it before the Gryfindors wake up,” Harry added, to give him a nudge.  THAT caught the Slytherin Prefect’s attention.  “Most of them are late sleepers, if my morning classes with them were an indication.  We probably have until lunch before we run the risk of being seen by them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it weren’t for that fit the Hat pitched, I’d assume you were meant for my House,” Lucius agreed.  “Tomorrow, same time as a school day pick-up.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:<br/>Skiv: slang for begging/bartering service for items/food.</p><p>Notes:<br/>The Author's standing headcanon is that House Elves are a variant sub-lineage of the naturally occurring Shoemaker Elf, cursed into an almost imperio-like state by an entirely evil asshat.  Good people still don't abuse or take advantage of them and there ARE ways to compensate them within loopholes, such as the "claiming discarded non-clothes items" rule.</p><p>Both Buttons and Witwiff are NB.  Buttons is a House Elf specific third gender that does not corrolate to the male/female binary and they use they/them pronouns.  Admestus Witwiff's actual gender is Fabulous, and they have used they/them pronouns since arrival at Hogwarts.  Superlatives for Witwiff (i.e. the "Mister" part of "Mister Potter") began as "Student Witwiff" and now is "Prefect Witwiff", if they are promoted above Prefect, the superlative will be "Head Student Witwiff".</p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Four: On The Merits Of Badgers</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four: On The Merits Of Badgers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry makes friends.  Harry defends friends.  Harry is a Badger and that's fucking terrifying if you know anything about Badgers.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love Fest! To Pigeonat, Josh Spicer, Joey99, Anonbooklover, Gbadvocate09, hhhellcat, Trickster32, willowfire, ValkyriePhoenix, janedoh, YaoiWolf, 6suicidalmaniac9, IantoLives, Farnsworth1, BlueMapple, and FantasyTLOU for comments, and to eivomlive, SkyblazerofFrostedlilacs, Dardrian_Breynt, ssong421, JeSuisUnRenard, loubega, IamTheOceansWater, FantasyTLOU, R0JA2015, ribbitfrog, Im_so_done_with_this_life, jesika_rawal, Ozzzzz, Stardustly, actualtrashraccoon, Imqueerwitch, blueberry_sun, lilbbyjl, LoonyLovegood3_3, TheLostArchangel, MegasoftDeleite, Zynis, Farnsworth1, I_Am_IronMaiden, Kali_SaDiablo, Charliefox16, Winally, Rosh1425, ashrk95, kimsquirtle, Idontwanttobeaburrido, Bluecimmers, ReyAsya13, Cuppie, glycine83, Masqueradewitch, and Harry1293 for kudos!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry’s first day of tutoring went exceptionally well.  He liked teaching, had ever since the DA and coaching others through what they </span>
  <em>
    <span>ought</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be taught in class.  It helped that, although he didn’t look any older than the kids put in his care, he himself was an adult.  A young one, maybe, but fully grown and capable of patience and creativity in teaching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first task was getting the skittish Slytherins over their fear of moving staircases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked a section he knew well, just down the hall from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and took them up and down the stairs, pausing the flock (or whatever you called a group of young snakes) when the stair arrangement shifted on the quarter hour.  Then he took them back down the new arrangement, paused, and did it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By lunch, none of them thought anything of pausing to listen for the tell tale grinding sound that meant to stay back from the steps. And few were still having trouble with the occasional vanishing steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After shepherding his group to the Great Hall to eat -- and collecting Lily, who showed up beside Severus and would not be glared away by the other Slytherins --  Harry took them on a quick tour.  The fastest routes from the dungeons to each of the first-year core classes were discussed, and one particularly deft Slytherin girl managed to produce paper, ink and a quill to take notes, although she did get ink all over Harry after Peeves tried swooping them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lay off you three-toed, gravel-blind, hatter-mad cockerel!” Harry shouted at the poltergeist, shaking his fist.  Peeves’ eyes went big as dinner plates, and unlike most people, for him it was literal, and rather disturbing.  Harry smirked.  “If you do, I’ll share more of those.  If you don’t… Well, I am escorting Slytherins.  I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> to give the Baron a bad report of my experience assisting his house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good sir, tip top, let’s do tea,” Peeves said in an affected posh accent before vanishing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you do that?” Severus asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carrot and stick,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on,” said Lily, waving her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peeves is a spirit of mischief,” Harry explained, “not malice.  He likes pranks and practical jokes and people who play on that level.  If he likes you, he’s a good resource.  He particularly likes people who teach him creative ways to swear without breaking school rules for foul language.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carrot,” said the Slytherin first year who’d spilled the ink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s also scared of the Bloody Baron,” Harry said with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stick,” Severus said with a spreading grin.  “Any of us can use that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can, but balance the carrot and the stick,” Harry said.  “Push him too far and the Baron won’t protect you, because you’ve earned your place on Peeves’ shit list.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know all this?” Lily asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Read about it in Hogwarts, A History,” Harry said and prayed his Mum would be as bad about following up on reading that herself as he had been when Hermione used the same excuse to explain her random knowledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first few weeks of school passed quickly.  Harry still remembered most of what he’d learned, and paid enough attention in class to be certain he knew what would be asked for in tutoring sessions, so his schoolwork was easy.  He wouldn’t be getting top marks, as of course a few things had gotten rusty and he hadn’t been the star student his first time, but he rarely felt worried he couldn’t keep to acceptable levels.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His small flock of Slytherins shrank after the pre-arranged two weeks, but he kept a few.  Severus, of course, with Lily never far away, and Hannah Cantor, the studious one who’d thought to take notes that first day.  He added a Hufflepuff, a muggleborn named Max Deft who terrorized half the common room one Friday by unpacking craft supplies and talking with his hands… which happened to be holding shears and a long, curved quilting needle, respectively.  After pointing out the obvious safety concerns, Harry gained an ambidextrous crafter and general menace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last bits of summer heat burned out, leaving a pleasant autumn which led to spending free hours exploring various courtyards, napping in sunbeams, and generally using the exterior portions of the castle.  Harry hadn’t done this much his first time around.  For one, he’d been rather more focused on discovering the Plot of the Year, which usually took place indoors, and for another he’d been on the Quidditch team, which he wasn’t this year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, a mixed cluster of Hufflepuffs (foolishly discounted as harmless) and Slytherins (prejudicially dismissed as acceptable targets) attracted the particular menace of showboating bullies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather more unfortunately, James Potter was a showboating bully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry awoke from a sunbeam-nap to the unpleasant sound of a snide nickname he wished he’d never known.  A memory from a long ago Pensieve, and from his Godfather when Sirius was particularly irritated with Snape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww, you gonna cry, Snivellus?” taunted James.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry heaved a sigh and hauled himself up from his napping spot on the stone table their group had picked.  His position made him rather taller than James or Sirius, or their new addition, who he surmised was Pettigrew.  To his frustration, Pettigrew was the only one who seemed to show appropriate upset at the sudden looming specter of protective Puff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back.  Off.  Potter,” Harry ground out, fists clenching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or what?” James scoffed.  “Hat’s meltdown or no, you’re a Hufflepuff… what are you going to do?  Grow a flower at me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> a real badger, Potter?” Harry asked, forcing his tone conversational as Sev slowly inched out of the space between Harry and his targets.  “Like, up close?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” James admitted.  “They’re rolly polly furry creatures, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I</span>
  <em>
    <span> have </span>
  </em>
  <span>seen one,” Harry said with a nod that neither confirmed nor denied the ‘rolly polly furry creature’ accusation.  “It walked right up to me as I was digging a latrine for our camp.  Twenty kilos of Don't Give a Fuck with claws like spades and teeth like chisels.  A badger will fuck you up, Potter, and but good.  They fear nothing, and even </span>
  <em>
    <span>wolves</span>
  </em>
  <span> think twice before messing with them.  Their jaws are specifically designed to bite and... Never. Let. Go.  No matter what."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius’ eyes went wide with shock as Harry let loose the… honestly not particularly special swear.  He’d been saying worse for years and didn’t even register it anymore, but of course there was a special bravery in being eleven and using such language.  Harry decided he could use that, and didn’t have to admit he wasn’t actually eleven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only place in the world that has eagles, lions, snakes AND badgers is Africa,” Harry continued, using knowledge from an old muggle documentary, one he’d watched with Mrs. Figg.  Mrs. Figg LIKED badgers, and he was starting to think he knew why.  “Not one of those supposedly more deadly creatures is willing to tangle with an adult badger, not even the eagle, who can attack and fly away.  African honey badgers are </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> terrifying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You realize you’re not ACTUALLY a badger, right?” James asked, his tone dismissive while his eyes showed some common sense had finally arrived on scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not an actual badger, but I’m smart enough to see the similarity to our house animals and treat each with the respect it calls for.  I spend enough time with Lily Evans to know, for instance, that while Gryffindor may not be populated by large cats, your girls and women are far more capable than your males.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James parsed that and started to bluster.  Harry shook his head, hopping down from the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you actually feel like coming at me, I will defend myself,” Harry said, loudly, catching attention from passing upperclassmen.  “But I would really prefer we settle this without violence.  It costs you nothing to leave my friends alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James glared, and in a sudden and athletic burst, tackled the air where Harry had stood.  Harry, being well used to dodging, starting with Dear Old Dudders and graduating to Death Eaters, obviously declined to stay put.  The charge overshot its no-longer-present target, and James Potter took a mouthful of stone table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on guys, let’s go,” Harry said to his friends, putting a hand on Max’s arm when the other boy seemed too eager to pile on.  “Picking on an injured kid is bullying, and bullies are lame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed as he sat in the hall outside Dumbledore’s office.  Obviously the ‘fight’ that wasn’t had attracted attention and the lot of them were expected to report to the Headmaster to sort the whole thing out.  Well, everyone NOT in the Hospital Wing getting their teeth re-grown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was really brave of you,” Severus said from his spot next to Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meh, I’ve seen worse than Potter the Preening Popinjay,” Harry said with a shrug.  “But he really shouldn’t have said those things.  He’s ultimately just a coward who needs to feel stronger than those around him in order to feel safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he’s a Gryfindor,” Sev said skeptically.  “Gryfindors are supposed to be the </span>
  <em>
    <span>opposite </span>
  </em>
  <span>of cowards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not… that’s not how it works,” Harry said.  He’d thought about it, the summer after third year, when he’d learned about Pettigrew.  Harry looked at the former-future rat, who was sitting on a bench across the hall.  “Gryfindors don’t have to be innately fearless, that’s stupid, nobody is fearless unless they’ve never faced a consequence in their lives.  Ravenclaws aren’t always going to be the smartest people in the room.  Not all Slytherins want power.  Of all the Houses mine’s the one that actually puts out the truth of what we are, and we’re the ones nobody believes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Hannah asked from Sev’s other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're all idiots who do dumb things,” Harry said.  “We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>kids,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of course we are.  Smarts and common sense come later.  It's WHY we do dumb things that's different.  Do we do it for bravado?  Gryffindor.  Is it unbridled curiosity?  Ravenclaw.  Because we think it will further our end goals?  Slytherin.  Or… is it because our friends shouldn't do the stupid thing alone?  Because someone needs to be there for no other reason or motive than holding a line between life and death, between light and dark?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you have no goals, no ambitions whatsoever of your own?” Hannah asked, wrinkling her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I have goals and ambitions, plenty of them,” Harry said.  “I just don’t do stupid things BECAUSE of those goals.  I’m also plenty brave but I don’t feel the need to prove it by being an idiot.  I’d rather be smart for myself and dumb for my friends.  Meanwhile, Potter tackles tables for his own pride in his so-called bravery, and Lucius Malfoy cut himself off from two good allies because you two don’t fit his personal ideas of </span>
  <em>
    <span>usefulness</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy’s a git,” Severus said firmly.  “Ambition is fine, strength is fine, but who the heck decided we couldn’t just have </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idiots, that’s who,” Harry said and gave his friend a one armed hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next,” announced the guardian gargoyle as it released Sirius from the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you soon,” Harry said to his friends.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:<br/>three-toed: possibly relating to animalistic traits, possibly alluding to leprosy or syphilis.<br/>gravel-blind: with poor eyesight but not without any vision at all<br/>hatter-mad: suffering chemically induced insanity as a result of mercury poisoning<br/>cockerel: a rooster, i.e. a loud, gaudy, sort of stupid bird.</p><p>Notes:<br/>The insults Harry uses on Peeves are real, if archaic, insults.  Some pf their provenance is lost to time, but the author has provided a "best guess" for them above.</p><p>As an adult, Sirius says fuck often and with vigor.  Even as an older teen he does.  As a first year only barely out from the crush of Walpugia's iron fist?  Sirius is amazed ANYONE says fuck.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Five: Wherein Humans Are The Least Aware Sapient Species</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five: Wherein Humans Are The Least Aware Sapient Species</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry struggles with unwanted attention, being a role model, and the general stress of being a time traveling former Chosen One.</p><p>He isn't alone, though, and help is on its way.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love fest!<br/>For comments: Winally, Trickster32, Masqueradewitch, hhhellcat, Joey99, willowfire, FantasyTLOU, GinaMarieSoul, goldenzingy46, YaoiWolf, IantoLives, ValkyriePhoenix, jedblack1997, 6suicidalmaniac9, Pigeonat, Lightseed, Kitteneyez05, Beccaworm, Gbadvocate09, and JLan156.</p><p>For kudos: ScribeOfLostMemories, samitathegreat, Kevina, Beccaworm, Cintix, RedRonja, EmeraldFeatherHeart91, CraftyMomma, Im_A_Hufflepuff_and_Proud, BluebellPetals, Marzana_Thallassa_Anastasia_Van_Harrell, Katy7HP, DarkAngelLove98, Garbage_For_Fandoms, TheLakeGirl22, TheFleetingWanderer, Natsumi1199, NRMD33, 19bcm78, SalvioDFC, MsPorcelainDoll, UrsaErythraeus, ThePumpkinKingsWife, GrillBAE_onfire, Nothing_Stands_Alone, kiviala, the_ansai, Astrael_Slytherin, Siela77, Summer_Kitten, Hobbitsize411, and McFoxy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If Harry honestly didn’t know better, he would assume James Potter had some kind of weird crush on him, with the way the other boy seemed intent on following him everywhere.  Ever since the fight in the courtyard, James cropped up in hallways, on stairs, brushing by just a touch too close in the Great Hall.  The glares didn’t faze Harry, he’d had far worse… and from people who weren’t actively trying to kill him, even.  Frankly it was rather refreshing to face something as petty and pointless as first-year taunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t make it less annoying, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It also didn’t make him less angry when the weird glares and shoulder checks started spreading to his friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lily offered to punch him.  Harry said no, since he didn’t actually want his parents to get into fisticuffs.  Sev offered to sabotage a potion, since Gryfindor and Slytherin had Potions together.  Harry rolled his eyes and said it wasn’t worth the collateral damage.  Max offered to sew his trouser-legs together, which Harry countered with pointing out the obvious difficulty in getting to said trousers.  Max… didn’t seem to think that was a problem, and that was scary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of all of them, Hannah was the one who seemed to actually understand.  She didn’t offer vengeance, although her own counter-glares were chilling.  Instead she offered coping tools.  She taught him how to meditate, apparently her family had a long history of anger issues and they all learned to calm their minds at a young age.  She played chess with him to help him focus.  She enchanted the woven bracelets Max made to give him a comforting squeeze at the wrist when they touched their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why when Potter jostled her to get at Harry, and she missed a step on the stair as it pulled away, Harry saw red.  She wasn’t actually hurt, a tense moment with her foot in the air aside, but the risk it had posed, and with her own fears about the staircases to start with… Harry wanted to dangle James from the railing, to see how he liked it.  His wand was out and he was halfway into Wingardium Leviosa when Lily pulled him bodily into the nearest classroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He could have killed her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t, and you’re better than this,” Lily said sternly.  Harry blinked and thought he saw who he could have had as a Mum.  His throat choked up and he looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You offered to punch him,” he said mulishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, because I’m a Gryffindor and punching problems until they stop being problematic is sort of what we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Lily said.  “Offer still stands, by the way, and I’ll give the same to Hannah, but YOU are better than that.  People look up to you, Harry.  You’re good, in a way very few people actually are, and I won’t let you ruin that for one unsatisfying moment of revenge.  I’ll help you, I’ll avenge you myself, but you’re the one people look at when they want to push an ass off the astronomy tower and if you actually</span>
  <em>
    <span> do</span>
  </em>
  <span> that, it looks like permission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s breath caught as he suddenly remembered in vivid detail a night at the astronomy tower.  Draco, hesitating.  Snape… <em>Severus</em>, firing a deadly curse.  Dumbledore, manipulative and kind and a bastard and a hero, falling.  The wet thud of a no-longer living body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said.  His voice cracked and he coughed.  “I have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>&lt;^&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how long it was between pulling away from Lily and when he ended up standing in the kitchen feeling lost, but dinner preparations were underway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does Master Harry need something?” Buttons asked.  Harry shook himself and started to say no, then changed his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any dishes that I could wash?” he asked.  He’d decided in the thick of the seventh-year-that-wasn’t, after he got distance from the Durselys and spent some time under Molly Weasley’s brand of therapy, that he did actually like doing chores.  He liked taking a task from start to finish, knowing there were no surprise twists in the process of soap, water, scrub, rinse.  That laundry wasn’t a double agent, and the broom couldn’t betray him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A House Elf he didn’t know squawked and began making very angry sounds in what might have been Gaelic.  Buttons winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, no, Master Harry.  Dishes be breakable, and you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked at his still twitching hands.  “Fair enough.  Any bread that needs punching down?  Maybe I could help cut things for dinner?  Make a Murder Salad?  And a stew, stew needs a lot of chopping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttons narrowed their eyes at him.  “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another House Elf made a meeping sound and reached for a rolling pin in a familiar way.  Harry put his hand over the pin.  “It’s okay,” he told her.  “That was a helpful question.  I need to relax, Buttons, and nothing I can think of would work better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span> something.  If I can put the need to punch and stab and break things to use, do something good with it, I won’t need to anymore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttons nodded.  “One more helping question, Master Harry.  What is Murder Salad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A salad made of chopped and shredded vegetables.  My mate Hermione introduced me to the idea, her Aunt Natasha created it so she wouldn’t accidentally murder the postman, or other sundry unsuspecting imbeciles.  All it takes is any veg that can be eaten raw, and a big, big knife.  Cabbage, carrots, beets, onion, broccoli, brussels sprouts, bell peppers… things like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How big a knife is needed?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The bigger the better. Hermione's aunt insisted that the larger the knife, the better it works as therapy. It takes more effort and you can pretend the cabbage is the head of whoever did something stupid enough to warrant it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttons nodded again, their eyes shining with something like recognition.  Harry chose not to examine that, and instead took the offered cleaver and the pile of vegetables.  He lost himself in the motions of chopping and the vicious shhthunk-shhthunk-shhthunk of the blade until he felt sore, shaken, and peaceful.  He washed the knife and dried it carefully before returning it to the big block on the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you very much,” Harry said, offering Buttons a slight bow.  The obvious leader of the House Elves wiggled their ears in what appeared to be the equivalent gesture.  “May I come back and do this again?  There’s just… life is stressful and hard and this helps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Young Harry is welcome at any time,” Buttons said, projecting their voice to the corners of the kitchen.  Harry noted but did not comment on the change in honorifics.  “Now, Young Harry must return to Above, it is almost dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shoot, I skipped class!” Harry gasped, and slapped his forehead.  “Stupid, fuck!  I’m in so much trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The House Elf he’d stopped from using the rolling pin earlier grabbed his hands.  Her grip was as inescapable as manacles, but gentle as her large watery eyes blinked up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We is be talking to the Wizards in the Castle when something be wrong.  You is being excused from classes because needing to destroy is not good for the learnings of Wizard Magics.  Is much better for learnings of Elf Magics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sagged and nodded.  “Okay, I’ll just go to dinner then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H’b’h-k’n of the Goblin Nation was spitefully documenting a case of embezzlement when the brass handbell on the desk chimed.  He briefly considered not answering, but to be honest the embezzlement wasn’t actually impacting the Goblin Nation, being just a rearrangement of wizard funds, so he put down his quill and shifted the bell so the mirror embedded in the handle was pointing at a convenient patch of wall.  A thin, watery image appeared, of an Elf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>H’b’h-k’n, good evening to you,” said the Elf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to you, Buttons.  To what do I owe the honor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a Wizard at the school,” Buttons said, and paused.  H’b’h-k’n knew his role in this dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I imagine there are many Wizards, it is a school for them after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This Wizard smells of Centaur, and more than that, he tastes of Elf,” Buttons said, and H’b’h-k’n allowed his shock to show in his eyes.  Very few who were not Elves could attain the honor of an Elf saying they tasted of Elf.  Elvish sense-words were multipurpose indicators of similarity, and taste was the most extreme.  There were more subtleties than that, but it was his third or fourth language, and Buttons knew that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Centaurs rarely interfere with Wizard affairs, but it has been known to happen.  If he is one of yours though, I will gladly provide a more generous hand upon his life.  What is his name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry Dursley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H’b’h-k’n wrote the name in his Book, summoning the information about that Wizard available.  In theory.  Nothing happened, and the Book remained blank after the name, awaiting a new addition.  Even a Wizard born to one of the Lost Lines should have resulted in a summoned family tree.  The secret spells woven into the ancient Squibborn lines and planted at the base of every Noble Tree should have documented anyone descended, regardless of how remote.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How odd.  He has no Family recorded.”  H’b’h-k’n looked up at the image of the Elf and frowned.  “Can you bring him here?  There are ways to discern his Line and Herity, but they require proximity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The gates will be easier to open on Hallow Night,” Buttons said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will see you at sunset October 31,” H’b’h-k’n agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry braced all through the preparations for Halloween.  Sure, he hadn’t seen any sign of the normal, regularly-scheduled mayhem, but this was when the first signs someone wanted to murder him usually happened.  His friends seemed to pick up on his worry, and started using a buddy system.  Sev and Hannah paired off, since they shared all their classes and could watch each other’s backs.  Max took up a constant position about a foot behind Harry’s left shoulder, his wand in a custom holster at his hip.  Harry worried about Lily, their odd-man out, except Lily seemed to have picked out her own buddy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His name is Remus Lupin and if you make dog jokes I’m punching you,” she said by way of introduction one afternoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t they be wolf jokes?” Max asked, and Harry shoved an elbow in his ribs as Remus paled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not his fault he’s named Wolfy McWolfson,” Harry said sternly.  “Or do you want me pointing out how on the nose it is for an ambidextrous crafter to be named Max Deft?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was named after cobras,” Hannah said blithely around a mouthful of sandwich.  Harry had introduced her to Buttons and now she was almost never without a snack.  Since she’d shot up at least three centimeters since the school year began, Harry figured she needed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus relaxed, since it was clear nobody knew about the werewolf thing, even Harry, who actually did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry tried to relax, but the idea of one quarter of the Marauders being not a Marauder made his head hurt.  What if the others never learned about the wolf?  If they didn’t know, they had no reason to become secret Animagi, and while Harry would LIKE to stop his future Godfather attempting to commit Murder By Friend, he really didn’t want to disrupt what the Marauders accomplished together, from the Map to the animal forms. Especially not considering what would have happened to Sirius </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> his Grimm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halloween itself was also the first actually cold day of the year, a sudden snap that took the air in the courtyards from pleasant if you wore long sleeves to fogging up under the nose as people breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner, Max wanted to go to a party someone was holding.  Harry recalled Nearly Headless Nick’s Deathday party and decided to pass, heading back to the dorms instead.  He also just didn’t feel very festive, seeing as it was also the day his parents died.  Nick had thought it was interesting to share a deathday with them.  Harry wasn’t as excited, even if here and now, James and Lily were alive and well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The false suit of armor swung open and Harry stepped through, not with the normal step up, but with a swirling, falling, swimming sensation, and he landed in a half-crouch in a room he didn’t know, hand going for the wand holster under his jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be at peace,” said a voice, and Harry whirled on the speaker, who turned out to be a Goblin.  A rather familiar Goblin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Griphook?” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:<br/>H'b'h-k'n: Pronounced Hebehaken, the Goblin name of Griphook (which itself is an English translation of a Low German homonym).<br/>Herity: Made-up word meaning Magic Inheritance, a soul-similarity metric used to tell the difference between blood relations who aren't Family, and Family who aren't blood relations.</p><p>Notes:<br/>James Potter does indeed have a weird crush on Harry.  Specifically the "this person doesn't put up with my shit and could actually take me down a peg and this is both scary and fascinating" type of crush that isn't exactly romantic or sexual but DOES tend to result in eleven to twelve year old boys flocking about whoever is least willing to actually tolerate eleven to twelve year old boys.  Like how cats gravitate to the one person who doesn't like cats in a room.</p><p>I have a recipe for Murder Salad if you are interested.  It is here: https://bairnsidhe.dreamwidth.org/30657.html</p><p>The Elves and to some extent the Goblins will be referring to the base magical species of human wand-users as Wizards, regardless of gender. They think it's stupid to have different names for the males and females of a species, especially if you won't then continue into separate names for ALL your genders aside from Male and Female.</p><p>Remus was one to the twin boys raised by wolves who founded Rome per the ancient legend.  Lupin is a Latin adjective meaning "of or pertaining to a wolf."  Most spells in the HP-verse are bastardized Latin, so obviously anyone even a little interested in the mechanics of magic would know Remus Lupin is named Wolfy McWolfson.</p><p>Hannah is the species name of the King Cobra, and Cantor is the last name of the scientist who brought them to the West's attention.  In this 'Verse, the Wizarding Cantor Family does occasionally produce weirdos who prefer going to to Muggle Colleges and becoming scientists, and may or may not have been related to said Cantor.</p><p>NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: As much of the brutally antisemitic sentiment as possible will be sandblasted off the canon of Goblins.  I may not get everything.  If I miss something and you spot it, PLEASE tell me.  I would a thousand times rather be informed I let a harmful stereotype stand so I can fix it, than just get passively labeled a bigot and not be given a chance to make it right.  That said... the canon required a LOT of work and I do not know if I got it all because yikes, was it bad.</p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Six: In Which Goblins Are Useful</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six: In Which Goblins Are Useful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry has a long conversation with H'b'h-k'n (aka Griphook) that solves many problems, and brings up a few more.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love Fest!<br/>Comments: Trickster32, FantasyTLOU, Lightseed, PupTiberius, Ellaxarion, Joey99, TheInfiniteweeaboo, IantoLives, GinaMarieSoul, 6suicidalmaniac9, Pigeonat, willowfire, hhhellcat, Josh Spicer, MetaCapricorn, R0JA2015, and ValkyriePhoenix... I love you all, each and every one.  Thank you!</p><p>Kudos: AssassinsGuardWolf, Tsunayuki_Crosseria_Demort, Darlinator, HufflrpuffTheDragon, MetaCapricorn, Lyne_Crow, SatansPuppeteer, Chip8024, thefiklepikle, Sammi3776, yineidy, Rainmooncheddar, rogue_scholar07, Pyrelindra, TheInfiniteweeaboo, Ellaxarion, PupTiberius, aimonci, bobo3, mysoulislost375, and kapinirvana...  Holy carp guys!  I'm used to the kudo-stream slowing down at Chapter 5.  Welcome!</p><p> </p><p>REPEAT OF AUTHOR'S NOTE FROM LAST CHAPTER: As much of the brutally antisemitic sentiment as possible will be sandblasted off the canon of Goblins. I may not get everything. If I miss something and you spot it, PLEASE tell me. I would a thousand times rather be informed I let a harmful stereotype stand so I can fix it, than just get passively labeled a bigot and not be given a chance to make it right. That said... the canon required a LOT of work and I do not know if I got it all because yikes, was it bad.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Griphook?” </span>
  <span>Harry asked, looking around at his surroundings more closely.  Yes, this was Gringotts, based on the architecture.  Probably a vault, but an unused one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know me?” Griphook asked, looking confused.  Harry groaned and slapped his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see,” said another voice.  “He smells of Centaur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, yes.  They’ve meddled.  That is rather unusual, but I trust they had a reason,” Griphook said.  “You needn’t worry Wizard, none here shall ask of you what you cannot share.  What we may share with you, we will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Harry said, squinting at the corner the voice came from.  He caught a shift of light, like a projector being snapped off, but he didn’t see who it was.  “Why am I here, by the way?  Like, in this vault, not like… in life.  Although if you know that too, I’d be interested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a difficulty reconciling you in our system,” Griphook said.  “Partly because you’re out of place, obviously, and our systems are warded against the meddle-magic of Centaurs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I didn’t get added to the bank rolls like I did to McGonagall's check sheet of students,” Harry said, and Griphook nodded solemnly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frankly, if it were just that we would have gotten an approximation of your Line and fudged you in somewhere,” Griphook said with a shrug.  “But your name is also false, as there are no living members of any magical lineage in any way connected with House Dursley.  This means we have no idea where to place you in the system, and this… troubles us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… the Dursleys are like, the exact opposite of magical,” Harry admitted.  “I panicked.  My last name is Potter, but there’s already a Potter at school, and that was going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>awkward.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  You can just throw me in wherever you stick Muggleborns, it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we had a record of you in the </span>
  <span>Squibborn lines we would have,” Griphook said and glared at Harry.  “You surely don’t believe magic comes out of nowhere, do you?  Even the so-called Muggleborns have lines that we can and do trace.  You were nowhere on them, and although you claim a Potter lineage, the whole situation is a gnarly mess of incomplete paperwork and you WILL be sorted properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gulped and gave the irritated Goblin his best look of contrition.  “Sorry, I was Muggle-raised and I don’t actually know any of this.  We can sort me, but please don’t tell anyone about this?  The Centaur was pretty clear I needed to keep the whole time travel thing a secret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time travel?” Griphook said in alarm.  He bristled and then visibly forced calm back onto his face.  “Centaur foolishness aside, yes, we will sort you.  Please sign the book with your true and proper name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked at the quill laid across the open book on a desk he just now noticed.  He could swear it hadn’t been there before.  The quill was a deep red flecked with blue that glittered like tiny gems.  He picked it up and then immediately dropped it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brain whirled like a broom trying to take off while locked into a rack.  His palms stung where sweat was dripping into the cuts his nails dug into his skin.  His breath was coming short and hard like he was trying to expel glass from his lungs.  He was trapped and he couldn’t get out and nobody was coming because he had been lying and lying was bad and nobody would ever come to save a liar and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>must not tell lies</span>
  </em>
  <span> and --</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face stung.  Griphook had a look on his face that seemed to be trying for supportive but really just gave away his fear and anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Harry said, his voice rough and tight.  “Uh.  Yeah, so I will not be using a Blood Quill.  I just got rid of the scar from the last one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re not supposed to scar,” Griphook said.  “Whoever enchanted it must have made a mistake.  They’re not supposed to even hurt!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it was a mistake, exactly,” Harry said darkly.  “Seeing as she had me do lines with it.  I carved ‘I must not tell lies’ into my own skin because of her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mistake</span>
  </em>
  <span> was made,” Griphook said darkly.  “A mistake to misuse a Goblin artefact as a torture device.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said she invented it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Many</span>
  </em>
  <span> mistakes were made,” Griphook said.  “There are other ways.  Less kind, usually, but in this case, perhaps they will work better.  We still need a sample of your blood, though, to mix into the inks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Harry said and rolled up his sleeve.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Griphook gave him a hard to decipher look, but produced a small gold cylinder the size of a ballpoint pen.  He held it to Harry’s thumb, at the side, and there was a small, sharp sting.  The cylinder turned a shifting quicksilver color, and Griphook went to the desk to do… something.  Harry took the time to examine his finger.  The small puncture was already scabbing over, and it wasn’t anywhere he’d need for writing or using a wand.  Griphook had made it seem like this was going to be painful or upsetting, but that wasn’t at all bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, you may use this quill,” Griphook said, showing Harry a gold quill.  The beaten metal was so fine it seemed like he could ruffle it like a real feather.  “The quill was forged by Goblin artisans and quenched in our own version of veritaserum.  You literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot</span>
  </em>
  <span> write lies with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled and happily took the quill to write his name in the book.  The page burst into color, illuminated letters, and flourishes.  The opposite page started bleeding watercolors that resolved into a family tree.  The pages then flashed with a golden light and Griphook took the book to look it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmnn, it says here your actual Line is… impossible, to be honest.  Your parent’s birth dates for one, and the amendments to their death dates, and the death dates of your grandparents, and your OWN death and birth dates.  Since I do also know your circumstance is, shall we say </span>
  <em>
    <span>unusual</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a secondary iteration can be worked out for your use.  This version will remain in the Archives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did something complex involving the spine of the book and the decorative-seeming metal and gem adornments.  When he put the book back down, the page was blank again, although Harry hadn’t seen him turn the pages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry wrote his name again, and again the page became a colorful and decorated artwork, including a family tree.  This time, though, he didn’t start recognizing names until he got back to Peverell.  Also, the family tree was now attended by illustrations of a snake and a badger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ummm,” Harry said, looking at Griphook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes.  As a Potter scion you wouldn’t have been tested for valid Lordship, for a number of reasons.  None of them have tested in ages, and the family isn’t considered all that noble as they focused more on material joy than jockeying for position when it came to marriages.  Good plan, too, since we’ve had to reject most of the more ‘pure’ families to apply for reasons of insanity, idiocy, and inbreeding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I know the Peverell’s were related to Slytherin, but why is there a badger?”  Harry was trying not to think too hard about the Hat calling him the second coming of Helga Hufflepuff.  He was failing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother’s side,” Griphook said, flipping to the first page Harry had done.  He stroked the page and the tree shifted to show higher branches.  “Five generations back a woman of the Squibborn line of Sebestin married the third son of the family Evans.  Sebestin is the Line that descended from the Squibborned second son of Helga Hufflepuff, Sebastian Hufflepuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep using that word, is it… is it like a squib, someone born without magic to a magic family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Griphook gave him an offended look.  “Certainly not.  Sebastian Hufflepuff was a fine young wizard who helped broker a peace between Goblins and Wizards.  No, Squibborning is a process, a warding spell if you like.  It protects and insulates family members from the results of blood curses.  The effects can vary depending on how virulent the curse is, from simple removal of the sympathetic pathway the curse would travel, to removal of the entire memory of what would have caused the curse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry thought of what Hermione had said happened to her parents.  She’d said she obliviated them, but if she really had erased their only child… they wouldn’t have been coherent enough to move to Australia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Helga did it, didn’t she?” Harry said.  “She erased herself from their minds to protect them, erased </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and they went off and had families, not knowing they had magic at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Griphook nodded sadly.  “The blood curse laid on all four Founders of Hogwarts was particularly strong.  Helga and Roweena took the brunt of it, as they had prepared to protect their children and grandchildren from such an attack.  Helga Squibborned her children, Roweena… did something worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She cursed the diadem, didn’t she?” Harry guessed.  “Because of course she did.  Keeping a deadly blood curse in an object people already coveted....  Ugh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be fair,” Griphook began, then shook his head.  “No, you’re right.  Roweena has no living descendants and it is entirely her fault.  Meanwhile Godric and Salazar went and covered half the country in their bloodline, but the remnant curse that wasn’t soaked up by Roweena and Helga caused a rash of unfortunate accidents, mysterious sterility, and other means of cleaning up after them.  Salazar’s only surviving child managed to reproduce because he’d already taken steps to circumvent the need for his own participation in passing on his blood.  Regardless, the appearance of these beasts in your tree means we need to test for Herity for both Lines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Herity?” Harry asked, feeling his head start to hurt.  At least it was more interesting than Professor Binns’ lectures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With so many families all marrying each other, inheritance cannot be decided through bloodline alone, we’d end up in countless debates and endless probate anytime one of you popped off,” Griphook said in a huff.  “Instead, most lines use Herity, a magical parity of spirit, to ensure only descendants that they would approve of inherit.  Come, we can test that easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He produced a box, one of those velvet jewelry boxes.  Inside were rings, two of bronze and one silver.  They carried almost no adornment, although Harry could see little wrinkles in the shine where there once were carvings.  They had the feel of something unbearably old and important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Harry put the silver one on first.  An echoing hiss of Parseltongue filled the vault, sending shivers up his back.  He bit down hard on the urge to scream ‘basilisk’ and cower in a corner, although he did close his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Acceptable,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the voice said.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ssso much better than the last one.  Sssane, too, with worthy goals to harness his ambitionsss to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Griphook said with a grin.  “Congratulations, Lord Slytherin.  Salazar’s ring has deemed you an acceptable warden of the Slytherin Lordship.  Most of that has been held in trust and you may of course leave it in the capable hands that have guarded it thus far, but you will need to participate in politics when you turn seventeen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, I guess?” Harry said, and pulled the ring off.  “This is loud, please tell me I don’t have to keep wearing it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, only on ceremonial occasions.  We will keep it safe in the meantime.  Now, Helga’s ring, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry took a deep breath and put on the simpler bronze ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh I like this one, </span>
  </em>
  <span>a voice said with none of the ominous sound effects of the last ring.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good head on him.  He loves fiercely, fights fiercely.  Wouldn’t start a fight, but he’d end it if need be.  Yes, this one will do nicely.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Griphook said, blinking slowly.  “It would seem you are Helga Hufflepuff’s Heir.  You can try the Lordship ring on now, sometimes it will do one but not the other, which is why we only have the Lordship ring for Slytherin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because you have to be </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>sane </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>to be a Lord, </span>
  </em>
  <span>remarked the ring still on Harry’s hand.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve bloody well seen what happens when you let madmen rule.  You also have to be a hard worker to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>manage six different estates and their businesses, and the vaults, AND keep the rest of the relatives in line.  Layabouts can’t inherit what they’d just waste.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, is the ring actually haunted?” Harry asked in a whisper.  “Because this doesn’t feel like a normal ghost but it’s awfully chatty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, the rings just have slightly more opinions than normal enchanted items.  They were designed to be able to make judgement calls,” Griphook explained.  Harry shrugged and slipped the second ring on next to the first, because it felt right.  There was a brief flash of light and the rings merged, small bronze vines tying the two together like a woman’s wedding band.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, should it also be talking?” Harry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, fusing like that is a sign the rings are in agreement.  Unless you do something while wearing the ring that would void the Herity, they’ll stay silent,” Griphook said.  “If you want, we can also keep this one safe for you, now.  However, it is useful to get people to back down if you have a fused ring like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Harry asked, looking at his hand.  “If I’m Helga’s Heir and the lord of both Slytherin and Hufflepuff… can I change my last name?  I picked Dursley for… other reasons but it doesn’t fit and I kind of hate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, any of the names in the family tree can be registered as your surname.  You can also hyphenate Hufflepuff-Slytherin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, if I do that, Salazar’s ring will disown me,” Harry said firmly.  “Peverell.  I can be Harry Peverell.  It’s an old enough name that’s largely died out, so nobody will be able to get tetchy about using their name.  And it’s tied to the family that connects to Slytherin, which I plan on not using until I have to.  People already know I’m a badger, but it’ll be nice to have the built in foreshadowing when I have to whip out the Slytherin connection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Griphook smiled.  “I can see why Salazar approved of you.  You think like we do.  We’ll work up the paperwork and deliver anything that needs signing to Hogwarts for you.  In the meantime, it’s getting very near to when the paths that brought you here start to close, so you must return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Griphook,” Harry said.  “You were always really good about making this all make some sort of sense.  I wish I’d gotten to have more time to talk with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Griphook nodded and gestured to a doorway that hadn’t been there before.  Harry was getting used to this Room of Requirement style magic and didn’t flinch.  He did realize this could neatly solve a problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!  Um, upon arrival, I was kind of effectively homeless because of the whole out-of-time issue?  Can you see about finding a house or something I could afford with whatever it is I inherited?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Griphook blinked owlishly.  “You honestly don’t have all that much money, the vaults had specific payment plans for certain things attached that drained the coffers over time.  What you do now have is several properties, including multiple manor homes and a castle in Wales.  I’ll do up a packet on your options.  If you like, I can include paperwork to name an Executor to arrange the more fiddly details of making one of those properties habitable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, thanks!” Harry said, and then let out a yawn.  “I need to go attack a pillow with my face now.  Thanks again, Griphook!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:</p><p>Notes:<br/>Buttons is not actually present, but appearing via magic-hologram that turns off when Harry tries to spot him.  Secrecy protocols are in full effect because frankly everything these two groups does is kept hush hush because Wizards have a long history with being kinda dicks about non-human people.</p><p>It may not be clear because I was using the PoV of a character having a panic attack, but Griphook slapped Harry to snap him out of a particularly vicious flashback.  This is not the recommended practice, but sometimes effective.  Mostly he did it because he panicked about Harry panicking and it seemed like it might work?</p><p>Goblin-made Blood Quills remove microscopic quantities of blood my magic as the person writes, to make the words magically binding.  They don't hurt or leave a mark and are therefor considered kinder than the diabetic-stick type thing which takes a whole droplet of blood through a puncture.  Harry's bar for upsetting is MUCH higher than a small needle jamming into the side of his thumb, so he doesn't see it.  Also, his history with Umbridge-enchanted Blood Quills is at play.</p><p>This is a juncture wherein the Author has chosen to Fuck With Canon because the family trees made no sense.  Just go with it.</p><p>Salazar's kid was a Trans man, and when he wanted a baby he made one with magic and his wife's womb. The curse-caused infertility was tied to <em>his</em> womb, which he wasn't planning on using anyhow, thanks muchly.</p><p>Slytherin's Lordship Ring: http://ancientpoint.com/imgs/a/i/c/l/j/viking___silver_wedding_serpent__snake_figure_finger_ring_circa_900_ad_1_lgw.jpg<br/>Helga's Heir ring: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/83/ec/77/83ec772f56d81f7c65dc0fef6121affe.jpg<br/>Hufflepuff's Lordship ring: https://p1.liveauctioneers.com/5584/125615/63931199_1_x.jpg?auto=webp&amp;format=pjpg&amp;version=1&amp;width=512</p><p>Yeah, the Gaunt Family had the Heir ring for Slytherin (largely because the last Heir was a Gaunt and they hadn't given it back) but not the Lordship Ring (or they would have had the money, power, and responsibility of being actual Lords.  Tom tried to get the Lordship ring but it laughed him out of the vault because he'd be a TERRIBLE Lord.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Seven: Concerning the Friendship of Badgers</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Seven: Concerning the Friendship of Badgers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hufflepuff handles the inevitable results of late night revelations MUCH differently than Gryffindor does.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love Fest!<br/>Comments: ValkyriePhoenix, willowfire, goldenzingy46, Trickster32, biblioworm, Masqueradewitch, Josh Spicer, TheInfiniteweeaboo, Joey99, FantasyTLOU, Pigeonat, 6suicidalmaniac9, IantoLives, Frog_that_writes, YaoiWolf, hhhellcat, HappyTr33, and Wynni.<br/>Kudos: GreenSplatterBears, galacticsunflower, Nox_Clara, SpaceyCadet, astridlena31, MidnightMoonraider, Itsaname, mhairitherese16, Frog_that_writes, FrenchieV94, AllanDF, MinimalBanter, desiqtie, Lisaly75, Aithan_Isaacs, WonderSeeker, Tomboywolf201, ClockWeasel, SnowyeFeather, amethystserenity, balloongal247, RaithnaitRouze, Agent_bond_008, Jessiikaa15, Hoshiris, Sarahseesthis, Zeivira, and RosieR</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry barely remembered getting ready for bed.  He knew he’d stepped from the secret Goblin Vault of Requirement into his dorm room, and that the old fashioned wind up alarm Max kept by his bed showed a time past midnight, but he didn’t recall getting changed or climbing in bed.  From the feel of his teeth he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>skipped brushing them, but his head was blurry and everything hurt.  Despite the fact that his body was 11, he was far too old to be spending all night in a secret meeting with a Goblin banker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, now that he wasn’t actively attempting to handle a situation, Harry didn’t think Griphook acted like a banker.  He acted like a leader, like Neville had when Harry, Ron, and Hermione got back to the school.  A general or a lord, maybe?  Thinking of Neville made Harry’s heart hurt.  It had been a while since he thought about his friends.  He wished almost constantly for Hermione’s smarts and Ron’s understanding, but he had more friends than them and it hurt to realize he’d let himself forget them for so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unnng-hmm,” Harry mumbled, and pried the sheets off.  He did have class today, regardless of what he felt like.  His eyes stayed shut, though.  The very idea of sunlight was repulsive and he did actually know how to find his clothes in the dark.  He got up before his roommates often enough to learn to navigate by memory and feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He staggered over to his wardrobe, opened the doors, and grabbed the third shirt from the left, which ought to be a pale grey cotton tee that worked well as an undershirt.  Instead, he got a handful of thick woven material that probably had wool in it.  Shock opened his eyes, and he blinked at his wardrobe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the clothes were the same.  Some were new.  And some were absent entirely, including the majority of his hand-me-downs from Dudley with the worst damage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha-huh?” Harry said, proud of his eloquence in such a trying situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surprise!” Max said from behind him.  “You’ve been having such a hard time lately I decided I needed to do something nice for you.  And your clothes are… well, I can tell you didn’t end up with them like that </span>
  <em>
    <span>on purpose</span>
  </em>
  <span>, shall we say.  I fixed what I could, and then Witwiff saw me in the common room with your things, and I explained, so they got Sturgis and a bunch of the others who know good household spells and we had a bit of a sewing bee.  I was going to show you when you got in last night, but you never came and Witwiff put their foot down about everyone getting sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Harry said.  He blinked again at his wardrobe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were you, anyways?” Max asked, and Harry mustered a truly heroic level of strength.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goblins.  Paperwork.  New rings,” he said and showed Max his hand.  “Not a Dursley, thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s eyes went wide.  “That raises more questions than it answers, and I don’t know what the fancy jewelry means.  You get dressed, I’ll get Witwiff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Harry agreed and pulled out a shirt and pair of pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he was dressed, Harry sat down on his trunk, which was serving as a bench at the foot of his bed.  He rubbed his face vigorously with his hands and longed for a cup of coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there,” said a quiet voice.  He looked up to see Witwiff leaning over with concern across their face.  “I hear you had quite the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goblins, paperwork, not a Dursley,” Harry explained again. He also held up the ring.  “Name’s Peverell now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Witwiff’s face didn’t even try to hide shock.  The prefect’s jaw dropped.  Then, as Harry watched, they packed the shock away and nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay Peverell.  I’ll talk to our head of house and get the formalities taken care of for your name change.  Sturgis, can you take your Kit to the common room and set him up with chocolate and a blanket?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Classes?” Harry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not for you today,” Witwiff said sternly.  “You’ve had a very stressful night, no matter what good came of it in the end, and putting you in class would just be neglectful of your health.  If you spend a day in an armchair with a blanket and a hot beverage </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you won’t end up in the Hospital Wing </span>
  <em>
    <span>later</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Harry said quietly and let Sturgis do a very credible impersonation of a mother cat corralling a kitten.  He ended up in the plushest of the very plush chairs in the common room, with his feet on an ottoman and a fluffy blanket in his lap.  Buttons brought him hot cocoa and a single potted chocolate lava cake.  When Harry objected to so many sweets first thing in the day, the House Elf returned with a selection of appetizers made of meats and soft cheeses rolled up with vegetables.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was nibbling at a smoked salmon and brie stick wrapped in cucumber paper when the second House Elf arrived in the common room.  He knew she wasn’t a Hogwarts Elf as she didn’t use the coat closet.  He winced from the bang and she turned sharply to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Harry Peverell is needing a House Elf,” she announced in a high voice.  “Portia will be that Elf!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm, no thank you?” Harry said in confusion.  “I don’t really like the idea of anyone being enslaved to my service.  I know you can’t change who you are, but it would really mess up who I am if I took advantage of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry Peverell is needing a House Elf,” she said again, this time with a stern tone that reminded Harry of Hermione’s more volatile moments.  A feeling like a thunderhead filled the room.  All the little signs that warned when Dobby was about to use violent magic set off at once in a synchronized and targeted intensity that made it clear such actions would be intentional, fully understanding the impacts.  “Harry Peverell has just inherited two Lordships and has never been trained for this great responsibility.  Harry Peverell will make many terrible mistakes without Portia to help him.  Doom will befall the great and noble houses of Slytherin and Hufflepuff.  Buildings will be left empty to molder, crops will rot in the fields, little animals will get sick and die, because Harry Peverell does not know how to be a Lord!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… really ominous,” Harry said.  The gloomy aura hanging over Portia lifted and she gave him a brilliant smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But!  This will not happen because Portia will be Harry Peverell’s House Elf and help him to make good-good choices for everyone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Harry said meekly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First thingies first!  Master Harry Peverell has paperwork to sign from Gringotts and Goblinses.”  Seemingly from nowhere, she produced a stack of parchment pages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh.  I do not want to have to sign all of those with a quill,” Harry complained without thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They must be signed,” Portia said with a blink.  “How would Master Harry Peverell like to sign them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First off, our relationship is going to be very strained if you keep calling me Master and using my full name every time,” Harry pointed out.  “You may call me Harry, or Mr. Peverell if you really feel the need to be formal.  I do NOT like being anyone’s master and I’m doing that under protest because you made it seem like more than my own comfort depended on it, so stop calling me that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master is just being the formal ways of saying young Mister,” Portia said with a pout.  “Harry is being too young to be Mister yet.  And Harry must sign the papers, regardless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, I know, I just hate quills.  I would love a decent ball point pen.”  Portia looked oddly at him, like his words were confusing.  “It’s a muggle writing tool, looks like a short stick with a pointy tip, but there’s ink inside and it writes smoothly and never drips or splatters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Portia set the paperwork down.  “Read this.  Portia will be back.”  Then she vanished as loudly as she came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry set about reading the papers, and at some point someone stopped by with a lap desk, but he was so stuck on trying to understand what he had managed to inherit that he couldn’t have said who.  Portia reappeared with another bang, this time prompting Max to shriek as he jumped and dropped a stitch on his knitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Portia, please use the coat closet for apparition from now on,” Harry asked, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses.  They’d stopped fitting right about a week before he got on the train the first time, although the first time, Hermione’s fixing spell had resized them.  This time he hadn’t met Hermione on the train and his glasses left red dents on his nose and temples.  “It’s equipped with muffling spells to make the sound less distressing to people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of distressing, what are you wearing?” Max asked, putting aside his knitting.  The general House Elf uniform of pillowcases caused the crafter to twitch, but now that he mentioned it, Portia’s outfit was… potentially worse.  The Elf was wrapped in something tea colored that looked like cheesecloth, tied with burlap ribbon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Portia has been without a master for some time,” she said quietly, looking away.  “One makes do.  Now, I have brought ball point pens for Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to go get her some supplies,” Max said.  He vanished and Harry took the pen Portia carefully offered him.  It was pink, and shaped like a pig with little ears and feet, and had a company name printed on the side.  Still, it was an actual pen, and Harry wasn’t letting go of it for anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can sign all of these,” Harry said, patting a stack of papers, “but I need to go over these with someone who knows more about finance and lordship and stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Portia can help!” the Elf answered brightly.  “What is being the problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wages set aside for the people maintaining some of these properties,” Harry said.  “It seems… low?  I know part of their wage is they live there rent free and that reduces their costs of living, but they’d have to take a second job to really have an acceptable quality of life, wouldn’t they?  Not that I care if people moonlight, but shouldn’t this pay actually cover them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Portia looked at the papers he handed her.  “Ahh.  Yes, these contracts were set long-long back.  Last Lady of Hufflepuff passed away in the Colonies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which colony?” Harry asked warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Massachusetts,” Portia answered.  “Went to offer medical aid during the War, was shot by muggle weapon.  Portia’s father was her Elf, took out the battalion of muggle soldiers that shot her before bringing her rings back to England.  He was executed after that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?  Why?” Harry demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Battalion was British,” Portia said with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am so sorry for your loss,” Harry said sadly.  “It’s awful to lose a parent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a long time ago,” Portia said.  “Shall I update the paperwork to reflect a more equitable wage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes please, and check with everyone that there’s nothing else they’d like in the contracts, like protected holidays or more guaranteed vacation time.  Actually, just add two weeks a year as the base vacation rate and we can nudge it upwards if needed.  Also, I need to figure out how Wizards do health care.  Is it universal like muggle Britain, or do I need to buy it for them like I would in America?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m back,” Max announced, plopping down a cardboard box overflowing with scrap fabrics.  “I hereby relinquish ownership of this box and its contents to Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, thanks?” Harry said, blinking at the sudden change in conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now if you discard anything in the box, Portia can use it, since she’s your Elf,” Max said slowly.  “If I discarded it, the Hogwarts Elves get first dibs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I see,” Harry said nodding.  “Portia, I’m discarding that box and its contents.  I want you to handle that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Portia said, a gleam in her eye that said she deeply wanted to stick her hands in the piles immediately.  Then she sobered.  “Harry… is aware other Elves are attached to his Lordship, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More?” Harry said, mind boggling.  “I didn’t even want one!  This is an ethical nightmare.  Um.  Portia, I’m putting you in charge of collecting a list of any changes the Elves want.  Anything at all.  I know I can’t pay you or offer you what seems like basic decency to me, but if there is literally anything I can give the Elves stuck with me to make their lives better, I want to do it.  Fuck, this is worse than the caretaker wages.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry Peverell is a great man,” Portia said with a slight waver to her voice that reminded Harry painfully of Dobby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also, if there is ever, and I mean EVER an Elf that</span>
  <em>
    <span> wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be free, I will do it.  Or one that wants wages.  I know that’s not standard, but if there’s an individual that wants it, I’ll do it.  Well, I’d probably ask Max to help with the freeing, human standard clothes wouldn’t fit an Elf.  I won’t force it on anyone, but I want to make it as easy as possible to leave if someone wishes it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Portia nodded so forcefully it seemed for a moment like her head would pop off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, what’s going on?” Witwiff asked, walking into the common room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Portia, she’s going to keep me from accidentally killing people as a Lord since I have literally no clue how to do any of that,” Harry said.  “And she brought me a pen to sign stuff so I don’t need a quill!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I was clear,” Witwiff said with a frown.  “You are under no circumstances to work today.  You’ll make yourself ill with all this stress if you don’t take time to rest!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” Harry said.  Witwiff silenced him with a disappointed look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No buts, young man.  I am your prefect and your health and safety are ultimately my responsibility.  I will allow you to go back to classes tomorrow, but only if you immediately cease working now.  Am I understood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes Prefect Witwiff,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, now have you had lunch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Prefect Witwiff,” Harry said.  Witwiff rolled their eyes and muttered something about dramatic first years before summoning Buttons and ordering bone broth and a green salad for Harry’s lunch tray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The cabbage box is full again,” Max added.  “Some of it </span>
  <em>
    <span>used</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be clothing but I think I cut it up enough to be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttons thanked them both and gave Portia a curious look, before returning to the closet.  Portia bristled a bit at the other Elf being asked to take care of Harry.  Harry himself yawned.  It had been a long and stressful night followed by a rough morning and honestly Witwiff was right about him needing more rest.  It was actually kind of nice to have people taking care of him and pointing out where he needed to take better care of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Portia, I have to rest today, but I can sign all of these tomorrow.  Since I’ve read them already, it shouldn’t take long.”  Harry yawned again.  “I think I’ll eat and then take a nap, I’m knackered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sir,” she said and hesitantly walked to the closet to apparate away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to call me Sir, Professor,” Harry chuckled.  Max looked at him questioningly.  “Old joke, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.  I’ll tell Lily and Sev you’ll be back tomorrow, they can tell Remus and Hannah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a plan.  Ooh, we need to recruit a pair of Ravenclaws, then we’ll have a matched set of all four.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat your lunch and take a nap, Harry,” Sturgis said sternly, placing a tray on Harry’s lap.  It was a sign how tired Harry was that he hadn’t noticed the third-year coming in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Harry said, and he did.  Tomorrow would come soon enough.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:</p><p>Notes:<br/>Grief is a cyclical process, and Harry is grieving the loss of basically everyone he ever knew.  Even those who are alive in this time aren't the versions of themselves that he's missing.  It's normal in the grieving process to have a moment where you realize you forgot to feel actively crappy and then you feel bad about yourself for it, which is why I included it here, but if you encounter this yourselves, please give yourselves grace.  Healing hurts sometimes, but it's okay to heal.</p><p>Preventive sick days are a thing and I will defend them as valid till the day I die.  It is FAR better to let a person whose system has been compromised through stress or lack of sleep (or anything else necessary like food or water) rest and recover their resources so they don't get sick.  It's easier on everyone for someone to take a day off, than to spend a week on antibiotics and bed rest.</p><p>In archaic English, 'Master' is the correct way of denoting someone who will grow up to be a 'Mister' but is not yet.  The male version of 'Miss' versus 'Missus'.  In modern English 'Master' denotes someone of power and control, usually over the speaker.</p><p>I own the pen I have Portia give Harry.  It came with some craft supplies I bought from Japan, and it's adorable.</p><p>Technically Witwiff is overstating their responsibility for Harry's wellbeing, but that's intentional to get him to back down.  In reality, Prefects are an early line of defense against stupid, the Head Students form a middle layer, but both groups can call in Professors as backup, and the ultimate responsibility lies with the Headmaster if all the other groups manage to fail.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Eight: In Which The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Eight: In Which The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some things never change.  Like Gryfindors sneaking out at night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love Fest!  <br/>Comments: goldenzingy46, Joey99, ClockWeasel, Masqueradewitch, eivomlive, DarkAngelLove98, TheInfiniteweeaboo, Josh Spicer, 6suicidalmaniac9, Valkyrie Phoenix, Darling_Angel, willowfire, Lightseed, biblioworm, YaoiWolf, FantasyTLOU, Trickster32,GinaMarieSoul, IantoLives, Farnsworth1, Pigeonat, hhhellcat, and Usa-Chan</p><p>Kudos: Thady, AMereDream, DJ_Raine, Tantio, she_calls_me_queen, SoulSearcher13, Roseysky, ThatQuietKid, ChildofFire328, Hallows_Den, GreyOmen, hemi, AlixysBlackfyre, Darling_Angel, AnnaSang, Serpenscript, Koko0501, Anonbooklover, 09Shell_sea09, liana_lightwood, geminidaughter, MadameDirector, and Shadow101</p><p> </p><p>I go back to work next week, shortly followed by starting my Master's Degree, so I may be a bit busy for fic.  I do not plan to drop this, but if I don't update as regularly, I'm sorry.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What happened?” Lily demanded at lunch.  Harry had slept in and almost was late to class, if it weren’t for the shortcut behind the tapestry of the Battle of Branwen’s Keep.  He’d actually focused on classes, since he’d missed a day.  He didn’t recall having missed days before, except when he was horribly injured in the Hospital Wing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, well, I went through a door and it didn’t go where I thought it would,” Harry said, trying to actually recall what had happened that resulted in his new name and the rings on his finger.  “Apparently Gringotts got super upset that I wasn’t on file correctly?  They wanted to get a better set of paperwork or something, and then there was a Blood Quill….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off and pushed mashed potatoes around his plate.  “Anyways, turns out back in the day there was a curse laid on the Founders of Hogwarts, which is why Gryfindor and Ravenclaw didn’t have any heirs outlive them.  Slytherin’s heir had a loophole or something, and Helga fixed up her end by cutting the line to keep her kids safe.  Completely removed magic from their lives, even the memories of it, to protect them.  Now every so often, those bloodlines pop out someone with actual magic, like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re actually the Heir of Hufflepuff?” Hannah asked.  Harry nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heir and Lord, there’s two separate tests and the rings had to agree I was a good fit even if I’m related.”  He took a bite of roast beef.  Everyone else did the same, taking a moment to actually eat lunch.  “So anyways, I have no idea what to do with any of this, but then Portia showed up and insisted I needed a House Elf and she was going to do that job.  I feel bad about that, but I also seriously need her, and she’s aware that I’m unhappy with the whole owning a person thing.  Stupid evil fucker who cursed them ought to be dragged out and </span>
  <em>
    <span>shot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to work with what you’ve got,” Max said firmly.  “You already told her that whatever the Elves in service to House Hufflepuff want, they can have.  You can’t un-curse them, but you’ve done what you can to limit the damage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t we uncurse them?” Sev asked, looking puzzled.  “I mean, sure, it’s a huge undertaking, but curses wane in power and that one’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Harry’s brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I’m sure we could find something to break curses.  Maybe we can get permission to look in the restricted section.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s next, secretly brewing advanced potions in the girls bathroom on the second floor?” Harry laughed.  Everyone looked at him and he realized nobody here and now knew where the Chamber of Secrets was.  That… should probably be fixed, since there was a live Basilisk down there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>girls bathroom</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Severus asked.  Several people looked over at the exclamation.  Harry shrugged.  People would stare if they wanted, the stares didn’t actually matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haunted,” he said and took a big bite to excuse being vague.  “The ghost that un-lives there doesn’t like people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Myrtle’s not a bad sort,” Lily said with an uncomfortable shift.  “Just sort of… dramatic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, she died a violent death </span>
  <em>
    <span>at school</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hannah pointed out.  “I’d be cranky too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s not the real question,” Max said.  “The real question is what are you going to </span>
  <b>do</b>
  <span>?  Like, with Lordship and stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry groaned and buried his head in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He woke up in the middle of the night with his heart pounding.  His dreams had been scattered, broken and terrifying.  He had seen Sirius, the adult Sirius, the one with a face haunted and graven by years at Azkaban, falling backwards into nothingness.  He had seen Remus, a shattered, shabby man, curled around his gut like he was guarding a stab wound.  A stag had run across water and impaled a too-small body on brutal, sharp antlers.  Choking vines pulled a castle wall to the ground and the branches of the Whomping Willow cracked and bled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping out of bed he shrugged into his new thicker coat and slipped on his shoes.  The moon was shining into the window and even if it was just a dream, he didn’t feel like leaving things to chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have the Marauder's Map, the Map hadn’t been made yet, but he knew the pathways well enough.  It wasn’t all that hard to go up to the third floor and out the secret passage there that led to a small boat house by the lake.  From there, the Willow wasn’t a long walk.  Without the Cloak, he had to move slow, but that was okay.  He’d done this before.  There had been times he couldn’t use the cloak, times he needed to give it to Ron or Hermione, but he still needed to move unseen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t go into the Shack, he knew better.  The potion that made the full moon bearable for Remus hadn’t been invented yet.  If he thought there was a way to ask Severus about it without outing Remus, he would.  If it were possible to make these days less agonizing for the boy who would become the first teacher to treat Harry with true kindness, he would do it in a heartbeat.  But the risk of anyone knowing was far too real.  In the past, future, the future-might, Remus had been chased off campus by outrage over a werewolf being near children, even completely in control of himself thanks to the potion.  How much worse could it get without that potion?  Without being a grown man who could take care of himself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wandering thoughts cut off sharply as finely honed instinct pushed him to crouch in a hollow of grass, a natural low point that allowed a limited degree of cover in the darkness.  Soft sounds of bending grass and shifting dirt put his senses on high alert.  He closed his eyes and let out a soft breath, inhaling through his mouth, the damp air pouring scent memory onto his tongue and into his mind.  Dark cold nights, huddled under a cloak meant for one, danger and adrenaline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we really be out here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was Pettigrew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a Gryfindor or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was Sirius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That meant….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure I saw him go this way last time.  Maybe over by that big tree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry opened his eyes to see the bottom inch of someone’s leg pass his hiding spot.  Given his hiding spot was a five inch dip, he rolled his eyes at the total lack of situational awareness.  Given the way the foot was headed, he bit back a swear-filled paragraph on the nature of stupidity and unholstered his wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three Gryffindors were headed towards the Willow, and based on their conversation, clearly did not know what it was.  The full moon was shining like a beacon, and the not-shadow of the group in the cloak cast a long, shifting column of half-light.  It didn’t perfectly match moonlight on grass, not if you knew what to look for, and after so many years of using that same cloak, Harry did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reached the edge of the Willow’s radius, and Harry stood, sucking in a nervous breath.  If they showed caution, he would leave them be.  The Marauders became friends because Remus’ secret was uncovered.  Enough good came of that to justify letting them make this mistake once, if they were to survive it.  If they weren’t cautious, though, the tree could kill them, and that would leave Harry suddenly fatherless.  He did NOT want to picture how Time would sew that wound shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see a hollow!  Maybe it’s a tunnel?” James Potter said, and slipped out of the cloak, a darkened shadow appearing from thin air.  He stepped forward and Harry whipped his wand around.  He cast a binding hex and a body moving charm in one fluid motion, intent filling the air instead of sound as James Potter went stiff and was yanked back moments before a massive willow branch came crashing down on the place he stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew you were foolish, but I didn’t expect this,” Harry said, coldly looking down at his father.  The boy’s eyes were filled with a hot rage and his face was flushed.  Harry assumed there would be angry retorts, but his binding hexes had been modified by Hermione Granger, and James wouldn’t be speaking until Harry was done.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m disappointed in you, James.  You have potential and you waste it in petty shows of minor strength and absolute idiocy that will get you or your friends killed.  I sort of understand that coming from Sirius,” Harry said, waving at the cloaked children who had yet to move.  “His family life explains the suicidal tendencies and complete lack of restraint.  Even Pettigrew at least shows enough sense to recognize these plans as stupid, even if he lacks the fortitude to reject them.  You?  You have no excuse.  You are simply a bully so deeply scared of being discovered as a total fraud that you have become the worst version of yourself.  Selfish and reckless and cruel and crude, and worst of all </span>
  <em>
    <span>petty</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Your scope is so small that you diminish the people you drag into your foolhardy campaigns, with no concern for them, or the very real problems people face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, f-f-f-fuck you, Dursley,” said Pettigrew, tossing off the cloak and coming out wand up.  “You act like you’re better than us, but you’re no different!  You’re out here too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not better than you, Peter,” Harry said with a sigh.  “That’s why Potter pisses me off so much.  He could be</span>
  <em>
    <span> amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span> if he were just willing to look in a mirror and see what I see when I look at him.  You all could, and I really want to see that happen.  I want to see what you come up with, what you invent and do, but it’s not going to happen if you act like total twats!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean by that?” Sirius asked, eying Harry cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harassing Lupin on tonight of all nights is only going to delay what you can become,” Harry said.  “You need him and he needs you.  Nobody at this school can function as an island, we need each other, but it’s obvious that the four of you are like… puzzle bits that can’t anchor to the whole without each other.  Out of your dorm the only one not carting about big old bags of need and trauma is Shacklebolt, and he’s a fucking saint for putting up with your shenanigans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why did you say tonight of all nights?” Sirius pushed.  “Why does coming out here now make us… um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask him yourself,” Harry shot back.  Fuck, he’d already said too much.  “Not tonight.  Not tomorrow either.  Maybe next Saturday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and released the body bind with a thought.  James slumped and then rolled to his feet.  Harry waved tiredly at him and holstered his wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s late.  I’m going to bed.  Try not to die an early and arboreal death.  Oh, and Peter?”  Harry quirked a brow at the Gryfindor still shaking in his Oxfords.  He seemed so like Neville that first year it hurt Harry’s chest.  “That was really brave, standing up to me.  You should be proud of that, of defending your friend.  But call me Dursley one more time and you’ll spend a week as a ferret.  My name is Harry </span>
  <em>
    <span>Peverell</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Now get the cloak off the grass before it stains.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Notes:<br/>Nobody (except Harry) actually knows how Myrtle died.  Possibly Dumbledor, but Albus isn't telling because apparently the man's beard is big 'cause it's full of secrets.  However, ghosts do not form from comfortable, natural deaths.  Ghosts form from violent, unfair deaths.  The ghost of a student has some... implications for Hogwarts.</p><p>The willow is brand new on campus this year and has not yet become the dangerous landmark it will someday be.  That said, even Harry basically didn't notice it his first year, so the Marauders not knowing is vaguely excusable.  There was probably an announcement, like there was for Fluffy's door Harry's first year, but honestly, what 11 year old is going to break curfew but then avoid a tree because it's off limits?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Nine: In Which Business Is Taken Care Of</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter Nine: In Which Business Is Taken Care Of</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Much needs to be done in the coming holiday before the fun can be had.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love Fest!  And apologies for the wait.  All I can say is it's really freaking hard to stay on top of master's studies and a full time job and a part-time job and all my various relationships/friendships.</p><p>Comments:<br/>Lightseed, FantasyTLOU,ValkyriePhoenix, willowfire, WonderSeeker, goldenzingy46, Joey99, Trickster32, LilyFlower17, Hallows_Den, Pigeonat, biblioworm, hhhellcat, SelKar, 6suicidalmaniac9, IantoLives, CassandraWynther, Wentley, and Blirf.</p><p>Kudos:<br/>Blirf, erdaenos, PanicAtTheAlice, patrick12, littlesunhikari, sapphicbeee, Radiant_Allomancer, Brilala106, GrogMcLeod, hyperbookslover, ThujaPlicata, sister_of_despair, 777angeloflove, Francina, AwesomeBecBec, helloyessadness, the_nerdy_hermit, IndMartin, ObZidian_Corr, IamtheLastDragonLord, PanPow, braincellsoptional, PyroDreams, cielknight, 31082000k, JustAnAverageGirl_00, Wentley, brandygrin, hazedlemon, MLilyM, Stygiandragon, Prettythinker, Esgalnoreth, Shadowfire23, Nike_Is_Victory, Marie41979, Athren, trash_can_fran, yjyyjy, MistyDragon, MidnightSky, acourtofbooksandtea, pclauink, LiveryFaith, kris187, Xamp, ImaMonster, SelKar, Fellfire, imjusthereformyfandoms, amanda_amramos, DeZodi, Frina, LilyFlower17, bluedandelions, Taranov, vpl, alwaysreadyforanap, Issey989, Rubi14, Rindo_Seiren21, Luna_sss, SSAerial, VongolaMyst, VKestrel, dspan</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>November, quite thankfully, went smoothly.  Harry began to develop a routine of sorts.  Schoolwork, time with friends, time with Portia going over all the paperwork of Lordship and approving plans to be made.  He didn’t feel a need to do the sudden burst of revision and study that he had the last time mid term exams came around.  Partly because he knew he was capable of most of it, since these were the absolute basics, and partly because unlike his actual first year, he’d taken the time earlier to assemble his notes and explain things to his friends.  Talking it out helped the information stick in his head, and teaching was the best way to learn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Harry, can I borrow your notes for Transfiguration?” Lily asked over lunch.  “I’ll swap you my notes for Charms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing,” Harry said.  “But Transfiguration isn’t my best class, you may want to ask around for other people’s notes, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out of us you’re the best at it,” she pointed out.  “Sev has the potions thing down, Max is our resident Herbology buff, Remus actually stays awake in Binns’s class…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is amazing,” Hannah interjected.  “Nobody stays awake in History.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s stories, lay off,” Remus shot back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ANYWAY,” Lily said, dragging the topic back.  “You’re the only one of us who isn’t struggling with McGonagall.  Of course I want your notes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying, I will not be in the top scores there.  You’d want Potter or Black for that,” Harry said.  His night out by the Willow had reminded him he needed to work on not erasing himself from the timeline, which meant not letting his mother develop a blood feud with his father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will shave my head bald before I ask James Fucking Potter for help,” Lily swore.  Well, maybe Harry shouldn’t have left this bit so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, dramatic declarations aside,” Hannah said, “what’s everyone doing for break?  I’m going home, but Mama says I can have a friend over for a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home for me too,” Max said.  “I need to hit up the supply shops to get more materials.  I had no idea I was going to be stationed out in the wilderness without a single yarn shop or fabric store for miles.  If I can’t knit I’m going to shank someone with a needle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll probably stay here for Winter Break,” Sev said shyly.  “I want to read more on curse breaking and the library here is wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry suppressed the urge to call Sev a Hermione, then shuddered as he realized what it really was.  Tobias Snape was </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, on a level with the Dursleys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I was planning to stay here too, but Port wants me to go out to a few places to supervise some things and talk to people about the new plans.  Also, I am for sure going to be hitting up a muggle office supply store.  I need some ballpoint pens and mechanical pencils.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mechanical what now?” Remus asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pencils,” Harry said and winced internally.  Were mechanical pencils even invented in 1971?  Had he just blown it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, like Eversharps?” Max asked.  “I didn’t know anyone used those outside some pattern drafters and like, architects.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well they are amazing and now I have money and I’m getting some,” Harry said, covering his fear at discovery with defensiveness over spending.  Only Max, Lily, and Hannah came from well off families, and they tended to be sympathetic to the rest of the group’s more complex relationship to money.  “Actually, I’m going to get a lot of things that just make life easier that you can’t get out here.  Like duck tape, and paperclips, and those stretchy hair band things because someone keeps shedding in potions class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I have long hair, leave me alone,” Hannah said with a mock pout.  “You have no idea how hard it is to contain this stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know there are better ways to handle it than leather strips and spelling it smooth,” Harry retorted.  “I’ll get you some and you can see if you like them and if they keep us from adding your hair to our cauldrons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Hannah said with a flip of said long hair.  “What about you, Remus?  Plans for the holidays?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, most likely,” he said with a shrug.  “Maybe I’ll help Sev with his research.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good plan!” Harry said with a bright smile.  He was hoping Sev would find out naturally, and do what at this point seemed to come easily… offering help.  He didn’t know when the full moon sanity potion was invented, but if Snape could brew it, there was some chance Sev could too, if he knew it was needed.  Harry just hoped he could protect that bright spark that he saw in Sev that had died by the time he met Snape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really want those House Elves freed, huh buddy?” Max said with a sympathetic pat on the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Harry groaned.  “It’s giving me hives just thinking about it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked cautiously at the manor Portia had brought him to.  It was a large white thing of Georgian design that would dominate the small hill it was on, if the grounds had been kept where they were designed to be.  Instead the tree line had slowly encroached, the lawn shrank, and the house seemed less imposing and more… almost overshadowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, the exterior does need a bit of repainting,” the caretaker said nervously.  She was a tall woman in a muggle-style pantsuit that didn’t sit right across her shoulders, which gave her a similarly overshadowed look.  “And we can cut back the trees, it’s just….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s perfect,” Harry said, giving her a grin.  “We can cut back anything that might hurt the house, but I don’t think we need a wider lawn.  Maybe add an herb garden or something, but this is the right amount of grass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are… are you certain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.  The house is a little big, but we can hardly change that now, can we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Sir.”  She stammered and waved a hand like she was reaching for a word she couldn’t quite lay a hand on.  “Would you like to see the inside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Harry agreed and the two went in to look at massive dining rooms, ball rooms, sitting rooms, and such.  Harry fought back the eye roll at the idea of a whole room for sitting, and tried to stay quiet about the sheer number of bedrooms, until he noticed something odd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, these are all unoccupied,” he said.  “Where have you been living?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well, the caretaker’s hut is out closer to the main road,” she said vaguely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t sound like you’ve been living there, either,” Harry pointed out.  “Part of the caretaker contract says you have to be provided living accommodations on the property.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but the hut is fairly old, and well….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we need to renovate it,” Harry said with a shrug.  “So it’s livable.  Portia, can you make arrangements to get the caretaker’s home up to modern building standards and fix the aesthetic to the liking of Miss… I’m sorry, I’ve managed to forget your name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taylor.  Consolida Taylor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, get it fixed up however Miss Taylor likes it.  When you’re done with that, I want the bedrooms cleaned up and equipped with basics.  Sheets, towels, that sort of thing.  Consult with the Hogwarts Elves about the personal preferences of my friends, Severus Snape and Remus Lupin, especially.  I want to make sure we can set aside rooms for them that they’ll like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Harry,” Portia said with a sharp nod.  “The house is to your likings then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very much.  It’ll take some work to get it just right, but that’s okay.  I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir Peverell?” asked a voice at the door to Harry’s office.  He looked up and had to adjust his glasses again.  He made a mental note to ask Portia to get him the tools he needed to refit them.  Or maybe he could splurge on a brand new pair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me Harry,” he instructed.  “Are you the Accountant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sir,” the man said with a head bob that didn’t read quite right.  Like it wasn’t meant for the man’s tall, spindly frame.  “I interface with the Goblin Nation… I mean Gringotts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to pretend they’re just a bank,” Harry said.  He motioned at the chair on the other side of the desk.  “That’s the part that touches the Wizarding world, but that’s not all they are.  How is H’beh-k’n?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s H’b’h-k’n, and he’s well,” said the Accountant.  Harry grimaced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will get it right one of these days.  What did they think of the proposal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s intriguing, Sir, but currently theoretical.”  The Accountant frowned.  “Other investments may be wiser.  Land, for instance, retains and gains value if kept up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded, he’d considered that when he had Portia take the proposal to the Goblin Nation to start with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have plans to start the proposed business with just my own funds, as a proof of concept, but I do plan to keep buy in to very select investors.  Namely ones<em> without</em> a long history of fucking up perfectly good things.  The Goblin Nation is high on that list… the Centaurs, the Elves if I can find a loophole big enough….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” said the Accountant, but it didn’t feel facetious.  “Now, you do have land….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, and I’ve started renting out what I can’t use myself.  People are more likely to keep up land they profit from than land they’re simply paid to look after.  I also found a group to restore Hufflepuff Castle, and all they wanted from the deal was permission to host a historical recreation event on the grounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A muggle group, Sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean…” Harry wiggled his hand.  “They’re not wand users, if that’s what you mean.  Frankly, they agreed to call in help if they found anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>unusual,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and they said it in a way that makes me think I was not the first Wizard they’ve met.  They have Portia’s direct number if they stumble across a spell or something that’s still active.  What matters is the group certainly has the credentials to restore a ruin, and I don’t, and they’re willing to work for, basically free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” the Accountant said, and Harry felt like he’d somehow passed a test he didn’t know he was taking.  “You appear to have this in hand.  We look forward to your proof of concept.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As do I,” Harry said with a grin.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Notes:<br/>Mechnanical pencils as we know them today were invented in 1822, with Wahl selling thousands of their model in 1920s.  They didn't become common school supplies until later, being as they were hoarded by drafters and designers because fine, precise lines.  They became super popular school supplies in the 70's and 80's in Japan, leading to their role in Kawaii Culture and the banning of them due to girls writing excessively cute kanji that couldn't be read.</p><p>Technically Max and Lily come from middle class families, with one parent's income able to cover expenses while the other does household maintenance. Hannah's family is upper middle bordering on 'not nobility but you can't tell by the size of the house' territory. However, compared to Sev, Remus, and the implications of Harry's vague statements, all three feel way more rich than they actually are.</p><p>The Accountant is a Wizard child that was offered to the Goblins in lieu of payment on a loan for racist reasons (they assumed the Goblins did such things).  Instead what happened was the child's summary adoption and the reporting of the wizards in question for child endangerment (not that it went anywhere because wizard cops kinda suck at that) and blacklisting the entire family that was alive at that juncture from Gringotts.  The Accountant was raised Goblin, and considers themself a Goblin internally.  Part of that culture is rarely sharing their proper name, instead using a title when interfacing on Gringott's behalf out in the world.</p><p>Harry hired/rented to a chapter of The Society for Creative Anachronism. The SCA is an international living history group with the aim of studying and recreating mainly Medieval European cultures and their histories before the 17th century. A quip often used within the SCA describes it as a group devoted to the Middle Ages "as they ought to have been" choosing to "selectively recreate the culture, choosing elements of the culture that interest and attract us".</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter Ten: Of Holidays and Happiness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As implied, a bit of holiday fluff and fun.</p><p>And some revelations about the less fluffy histories of some of the group.  READ THE NEW TAGS.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Seriously, guys.  Read the new tags.  Everyone is currently safe and happy, but three separate people confess to self harm in this chapter.  This chapter is largely the Comfort half of Hurt/Comfort, but that means establishing that Hurt happened.  Mind your headspace before entering.</p><p>Love Fest!<br/>Comments:<br/>ValkyriePhoenix, Brilala106, FantasyTLOU, Trickster32, Blirf, willowfire, biblioworm, ClockWeasel, IantoLives, Joey99, hhhellcat, and Little_Paws</p><p>Kudos:<br/>Twin2, Little_Paws, Aerona_Valen, hazelnut_exe, kayliekay, midgetdonkeyartist, Noire000022, LadyDragonrain, ninjagirl9797, GloryWolfie, Pheonix_Writer, Ms2weirdo, kellys_ROR, TheOneKrafter, marfarma, UnveiledGrace, inthecupboard, sabrena2743, Mireyrr, CelestialSiryn, win18, citygirl_312, SlytherinTigerWolf, Tako_tan, lilbrarian, kauket_k, Armandia, Tori_anon, pumpkinmoon, and Serana_lotr</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas!” Harry said, standing on the front steps of the Cantor Home.  The Night Bus had dropped him off, and he was happy to be seeing his friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blessed Yule!” Hannah said and took the box he’d offered her.  “Come on in and get some warm cider, it’s about to start snowing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you very much,” Harry said.  He looked around the entry as he stepped in.  It was warm and glowing with candlelight, but the upper half of the room had dozens of mirrors, which bounced the light even more, and made the room feel limitless.  He followed Hannah into the living room, which boasted a large fireplace, several side tables with cauldrons of drinks, an asymmetric and mismatched set of sofas and armchairs, and one very large snake.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello</span>
  </em>
  <span> the large golden-yellow constrictor said, from its perch in a driftwood tree set up opposite the fire.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>How are you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just fine thanks,” Harry said out of instinct and courtesy.  “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am well, but you are scaring my servants,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the snake said and flicked a tongue at the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked at the other humans in the room and realized they were all staring.  Hannah’s dad was pouring a cup of cider, but the ladle was hovering perilously over the mug.  Her mum’s eyes were wider than was probably good for her face.  An older man who might have been a well-preserved grandparent or a particularly life-worn uncle had paused in lighting a pipe and the match was about to burn his fingers.  Harry decided to deal with that first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah, napkin please,” he said, pulling the match from the man’s hand and shaking it out.  Hannah passed him a cloth.  Harry quietly cast a cooling charm under his breath and used the cold cloth to soothe a red spot.  The room seemed to come back into motion, and the man took the cloth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncle Edward,” Hannah’s mother chided.  “You know I asked you not to smoke in the house while the guests are here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pah, Suzanna, I’m too old not to have a little toke before dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t that be after dinner?” Harry asked.  “I thought tobacco made your appetite go down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so it does,” the man said with a mischievous grin.  “This isn’t tobacco!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edward!” Hannah’s mum snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Hannah didn’t mention you were a parselmouth,” Hannah’s dad said, handing Harry the cider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never came up at school,” Harry said with a shrug.  “Not a ton of snakes wandering around.  I guess I just sort of got used to it.  One of my first bits of big accidental magic was related, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Hannah said.  “I know your… the people you lived with, they were kinda shite about magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah!” her mum said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were!” Hannah protested.  “They were shite in general mum!  He lived in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cupboard under the stairs!</span>
  </em>
  <span>  They barely gave him the absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>basics</span>
  </em>
  <span> for school.  They were awful and I will not apologize for calling shite, shite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s right,” Harry said with another shrug.  “I’m glad I don’t live there anymore.  And yeah, they were not happy about my magic.  I went without dinner… or lunch, sometimes, pretty frequently when things happened.  But the snake thing was worth it.  I was at the zoo because their kid wanted it for his birthday, and he was harassing this boa constrictor because it wouldn’t move.  I struck up a conversation, you know, as a fellow tormented soul, and ended up removing the glass.  Dudley went </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the boa constrictor went </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Said he was planning to try to get to Brazil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone stared again.  Harry took a sip of his cider.  “Hope he made it.  This is really good, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, the secret is vanilla beans,” Hannah’s dad said.  “So what were you and Monty chatting about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just pleasantries,” Harry said.  He decided against mentioning that the snake called the family servants.  “Were Max and Lily able to make it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lily’s sister got sick, so she can’t come,” Hannah said.  Harry tried to force himself to feel bad about Petunia, but decided to settle for sympathy at Lily being stuck in a house with Petunia being sick.  “Max should be here soon, though.  I don’t know what’s taking him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then the bell rang with a ponderous bong.  Hannah ran out to get the door, and Harry took a seat on a lavender sofa near Uncle Edward.  When Hannah and Max came back, it was clear why Max had taken so long, since his arms and hers were full of gift bags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet Merlin, Max, what in the world?” Harry said.  Max set down his things and started pointing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah’s gift, Lily’s gift, Host gift for the Cantors, your Christmas gift, and supplies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Supplies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kinda figured you hadn’t had many good holiday traditions, what with your last cohabitation being utter garbage, so I brought my family’s tradition with me.  We’re going to make ornaments.”  Max started handing out the wrapped packages to make room for the small luggage to unfold into a craft station.  “Do you want to open those now or later?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” Hannah said, looking at her mom.  Mrs. Cantor nodded.  “Uncle Edward, would you open the Host Gift?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The host gift turned out to be a throw blanket in yellow and green.  Hannah nodded to Harry to open his next.  It looked like a leather bracer, but there was a long pocket and a loop connected to a snap at the wrist.  It was a deep red-brown, and there was a badger tooled into it, and a vaguely scale-like border on the black edge-binding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wand holster,” Max said with a smile.  “The hip ones are great for walking about, but they’re awkward for sitting and they don’t exactly look the best.  I retooled the design, so this one goes on your arm, and it’s got a quick release on that loop.  Pop the snap, shake your wrist, and the wand should fall into your hand.  Let me know when you’re trying it out, I want to make adjustments if it doesn’t work right with your wand, specifically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Max!” Harry said, and pulled out his gift for Max.  Thankfully Portia had made sure his new coat had an expansion charm on the pockets, because it was a bit larger than he could have fit into his old coat’s pockets.  “I found this in one of the libraries, when we were trying to figure out if everything was still preserved.  It’s just a copy, but I thought you’d be interested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Matilda Mangrove’s Magical Making… Harry this is a guide to crafting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you like crafting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, this is THE guide to crafting with magic… in 1039 A.D.!  It’s been referenced in ten thousand books, but the actual manuscripts were thought to be lost.  There’s a single folio of it in a museum in France, but you have to pass a background check and sign a binding contract just to look at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it’s good?” Harry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marry me,” Max said, and Harry wasn’t sure if Max was talking to him, or the book.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that reaction, he was sort of worried about the box in Hannah’s hands, which she was opening.  He’d picked books for each of his friends, but he hadn’t realized the one for Max was a priceless lost manuscript.  This was just something he thought she’d be interested in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is Jacques de Vaucanson?” she asked, looking at the collection of pamphlets and schematics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He made automatons in the 1700’s, like little statues that did stuff if you turned a crank.  Apparently the last Lady Hufflepuff was a fan, her notes are all through the margins and things.  He wasn’t magical, but his devices were pretty close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, I love things like this,” Hannah said and happily spread out a blueprint for a duck that pooped.  She tucked her hair behind her ear as she bent over the pages.  “I bet I could make this work for real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can’t top that,” Max said with a shrug.  “But open mine anyway, it’ll be useful while you’re reading.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah tore herself away from the papers to open the box Max had said was hers.  Inside were two hair clips made of green and silver glass beads that twisted and wove along a sideways figure eight, with a silver snake’s head in the center.  Max helped her gather her hair into twin buns and pin them with the clips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The base is rubber beads on piano wire, so it ought to hold your hair no matter what,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love them, Max.  Thank you.  Do you mind if I read while you and Harry make the ornaments?  I’m not particularly artistic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to be, but it’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had a second holiday once they got back to school.  Lily hadn’t been able to get away all vacation, apparently Petunia had gotten “terribly ill” almost as soon as Lily got home, and hadn’t recovered until days before they both went back to school.  Privately, Harry remembered a discussion with his Aunt about how jealous she had been of all the attention her sister got for her magic, and figured it was an attempt to level the playing field.  He didn’t know if he should point that out.  On one hand, maybe Lily could use it to stop her sister being a gigantic bitch, but on the other, was Petunia worth it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sev and Remus met them in the small sitting room by the Hufflepuff dorms, and Harry handed out the rest of his gifts to them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lily got a journal by Helga about corralling Godric and Salazar and occasionally Roweena.  Well, a translation of the journal.  The original was written in Old Welsh and too delicate to handle.  She laughed wonderfully at the descriptions of the tactics the Founder had used to keep her friends in line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sev got a book about how to invent potions.  Not a recipe book, but a book on theory and science and experimentation to create new things.  Harry hoped it would help with the innovations he knew Sev could make.  Sev’s eyes lit up and his hands hovered carefully over the pages, as if scared to touch them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s spelled to resist… everything,” Harry pointed out.  “Potion making is messy, so I had the pages water-proofed and acid-proofed and fire-proofed, and just everything-proofed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the best!” Sev said, and hugged the book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus got a book of the size Hermione used to call ‘a little light reading’ with the rather grandiose title “A History of Everything”.  It was the original because it wasn’t terribly old, unlike what Harry had given to the others.  Also because his copying spell failed, probably due to the size of the tome.  The others all looked skeptical, but Remus was entranced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our gift for you isn’t nearly as good,” Remus said, petting the book fondly.  “But we think we found a crack in the House Elf curse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?” Harry said.  “That’s great!  You guys are the best.  How’s it work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only for the self-harm compulsion and it has to be delivered by potion so it’s not fast,” Sev warned, “but we modified a calming draught with a cheering charm and something that’s supposed to help with resisting Imperio, and it helps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, something that helps with resisting Imperio?” Harry asked.  God, the lives that could have been saved if they had something like that… but why wasn’t it available to everyone?  Harry would have put that shit in his breakfast cereal if he’d had it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a deceptively simple potion,” Sev said.  “Pretty easy, except for the delicate bit.  Not everyone could brew it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The brewer has to have certain traits,” Remus said.  “Because there’s an emotional element to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like Patronuses?” Harry asked.  “Isn’t that a charm thing usually, not a potion thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a mix of charm and potion,” Sev said.  “You have to cast the charm bit while focusing on a memory of overcoming the thing the potion is meant to defend against.  So to make it properly for Imperio, you’d need a potion brewer who’d resisted Imperio the hard way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please tell me neither of you has had an Unforgivable cast on them!” Hannah said, shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Remus said.  “But that wasn’t our goal….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sev rolled his eyes at Remus.  “It’s okay, Lily already knew and I don’t care if the others do.  I trust them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a weird Slytherin,” Remus said.  “Okay.  So we wanted the potion to fix a self-harm compulsion, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s eyes went wide.  Hannah covered her mouth with a hand.  Lily looked sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your poison?” Harry asked.  “I’ll trade you.  I keep yours away if you help keep me out of fights I can’t win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sev looked at him with a calculating look that felt more Snape-like than anything Harry had seen recently.  “Poison, </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>poison.  Well, caustic things, on the arms where I can hide it.  I haven’t seen you be particularly reckless, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m working on it.  It helps that I don’t have a ton of acceptable targets for a fistfight,” Harry said.  “Distinct lack of fascists and dark wizards here, and I can’t exactly use my old techniques living with people who don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hurt me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well this is all horrifying,” Max said.  “But, silver lining, now we know and we can all stop Harry and Sev from doing terrible things to themselves and there are two people who can make the anti-slavery juice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three,” Remus said quietly.  “But you have to promise to keep it a secret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Harry swore.  Everyone else nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I see your hairclip, Hannah?” he asked.  She passed him the silver twist Max had made.  He handled it gently with his fingertips on the beadwork.  Then he slid his pant leg up and showed them a variety of faded burns.  He pressed the silver snake head to his ankle and let out an almost silent hiss.  When he lifted it away, a neat copy of the snake head was burned into his skin.  “It heals up.  Everything else heals quickly, but silver burns take slightly longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re….” Hannah said, taking back the clip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, I get it,” Remus said, only to get tackled in a hug by Max.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OURS,” Max growled fiercely, seeming wolf-like himself.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Our</span>
  </em>
  <span> friend, and you don’t get to say you aren’t or that we shouldn’t like you, because nobody talks bad about OUR friends.  Even themselves.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> themselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Remus said meekly, and he seemed happy, in a way he had never been before.  Like he’d been given permission, now.  Harry’s heart warmed, and then he had an awful thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he and his friends were Remus’s pack…,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the hell was going to happen to the Marauders? </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Notes:<br/>Yule and Christmas are two winter holidays, both mentioned in the books, so I assume at least a few Wizarding families celebrate Yule instead of Christmas.</p><p>Uncle Edward is smoking weed, which helps with increasing appetite.  Edward has chronic pain from a number of misadventures (his early life was basically a pulp adventure novel but with magic) and his medication for this dulls his sense of hunger.  Marijuana both assists with the pain control and counteracts the appetite suppression effect.</p><p>Parseltongue is the language of snakes, a person who speaks it is a parselmouth.</p><p>Technically Monty is an albino Boa Imperator and named for a friend of the family.  The pun (Monty Python, Monty The Python) is entirely unintentional and actually inaccurate since Monty is from Honduras, not Africa. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boa_imperator</p><p>This is the throw blanket: https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/CVAAAOSwD3pdrJ4-/s-l1600.jpg</p><p>Jacques de Vaucanson was a real engineer in the 1700's.  He really did make a mechanical duck that pooped, but it wasn't actually "digesting" the food, the fake poop was stored internally and released as the fake food was fed to it.</p><p>Hannah's hairclips are based on ones I own, purchased from a vendor for this business: https://www.lillarose.biz/  (Slight heads-up, it is technically multi-level marketing, but the clips are great and actually hold my incredibly rebellious and HEAVY hair, so I don't care for myself.  Your mileage may vary.)</p><p>A History of Everything, by Mobius Aevum, is a magical history text that perpetually records, condenses and catalogs Literally Everything for future reading. It operates like the Book of Lines that was used in the Gringotts scene, essentially a book-shaped super computer loaded with Magic Wikipedia.  It doesn't LOOK old, because the book refreshes itself to the newest information available, so the language and font choices and even the later sections on recent events are all current to the 1970's.  The spells on this book will later form the basis of this time's version of the Map.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Eleven: In Which The Plot Thickens</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter Eleven: In Which The Plot Thickens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry starts getting to the business of world saving, but he's not alone this time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love Fest!<br/>Comments: Little_Paws, pclauink, win18, ValkyriePhoenix, vignahara, FantasyTLOU, Lightseed, saltiestlegbird, lucidscreamer, SeeWhatISeek, Trickster32, Joey99, ClockWeasel, GinaMarieSoul, biblioworm, willowfire, hhhellcat</p><p>Kudos: rory_amy_pond, elychari, saigemiti, mildrice, Snorlax, totescraycrayconconbonbon, Libye, CanonShips, darkpaw1964, Anny_Rudolph, KeikoMineko, Lizzy721, Trintron07, Ginniebear, Silverbug, Kkait, FandomHarmony, agatemagpie, SeeWhatISeek, saltiestlegbird, Stofyn, vignahara, lonelywhale02, EnixSkye, and Cas_grippedyoutight.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After he’d had a chance to think about it (which largely meant realizing nobody knew there was a Basilisk, and that the Whomping Willow could have prematurely killed his father) Harry had decided that leaving potentially dangerous hazards laying about the school for impulsive students to trip over was probably not the best plan.  Sure, yearly brushes with painful death had been pivotal to his own education at Hogwarts, but really… it wasn’t necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just had to figure out how to clear as much of the things he knew about without causing so much fuss he would be asked to explain how he knew about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, his friends were really quite weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so… say you had to kill a Basilisk, but you couldn’t draw attention to doing it.  How would you do it?” he asked them at lunch.  Their usual spot was currently iced over and they’d been flinging hypotheticals around to entertain themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like if Muggles were nearby or something?” Remus asked.  Harry nodded.  “I’d do it in the winter.  Basilisks are reptiles and they don’t move quickly in cold temperatures.  I’d probably use roosters, and do it at night because people are usually asleep then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t roosters crow at dawn?” Lily asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They crow whenever,” Max said.  “My neighbors keep chickens as a hobby, the French kind, with the blue feet.  Roosters are arseholes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basilisks are dumb,” Sev said.  “Intelligent creatures make for better hypotheticals.  How would you steal a dragon egg?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not on a broomstick, that’s for sure,” Harry grumbled.  Sev gave him a weird look, so he actually addressed the question with the thought it deserved.  “One, I wouldn’t steal a dragon egg.  They’re not easy to raise and frankly where would I keep a growing dragon?  In Hagrid’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>wooden hut?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Also, they’re intelligent creatures, like you said, and I’m not kidnapping someone’s child, that’s a jerk move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so not an egg, just something the dragon was guarding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a fake egg?” Harry asked.  Sev shrugged.  “I’d point out it was fake and ask if I could have it.  Offer a trade of some kind if it was valuable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” Sev demanded.  “Dragons don’t speak English.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry’s a parselmouth,” Hannah said.  “But that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>cheating.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not cheating if it works,” Harry said.  “But if I’m not allowed to use it, for whatever reason, I’d probably use Accio to summon the whatever it was.  And then try to get as far away as I could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d probably make a Pass-Through Potion,” Sev said.  “Then I could phase through the side of the dragon’s den, and grab the fake egg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you pick things up while using a Pass-Through Potion?” Lily asked.  Sev thought, then grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, my turn,” she said.  “What would you do if you found a room that wasn’t always there, but was always different inside when it was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Max asked, looking confused.  “Lily, that’s hardly a proper hypothetical.  Respect the form.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you mean a room that reacts to you, right?” Harry asked.  Lily nodded, trying to look casual.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hypothetically…</span>
  </em>
  <span> would it be on the seventh floor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may have heard about it from a House Elf.”  Harry neglected to mention the House Elf in question had been Dobby.  “It’s called the Room of Requirement, and I’d go looking for it to be the Room of Hidden Things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you haven’t found it, actually,” Lily said, seeming satisfied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve not been inside it before now,” Harry said, walking the line of honesty.  To be fair, he hadn’t been in there before 1972.  He’d been in there afterwards.  “I guess I haven’t actually needed anything bad enough.  Do you know how to get in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, let’s all go after classes,” Lily said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>&lt;^&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Late that night found Harry pacing the hall in front of the tapestry of Barnaby the Barmy.  The Room hadn’t been on his mind, but now that it was, he was certain he needed to do something about the horcrux currently sleeping quietly in the Room of Hidden Things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d used their group excursion as a scouting trip, but he hadn’t mentioned the diadem when he spotted it on the wig stand.  Now he was back, alone, and trying to figure out how to get up the massive, teetering pile to reach the cursed object.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BANG</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry flinched from the echoing sound.  Portia was looking very cross with him, and he had a sinking feeling that his nighttime excursions were about to be curtailed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry… what are you doing in the Come and Go Room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um….” Harry tried to think of an answer.  He couldn’t lie, but at least Portia was somewhat aware of his situation, since he’d accidentally said something over winter break and had to explain the time travel bit.  “There’s a powerful dark artifact that needs to be destroyed before it gets a lot of people killed.  The Diadem up there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Portia banged thrice in rapid succession, and then was holding the Diadem.  “This has many curses on it.  It is not good for young Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I don’t <em>want</em> it,” he said.  “I just want it destroyed, because it’s helping support Voldemort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Portia hissed like an angry cat.  “Do not say that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a name, the fear people allow it to cause is the real danger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it is a Title,” she corrected.  “It was Chosen, to mean something larger than the one who bears it.  It was designed to strike fear, and using it legitimatizes the false title.  It is not a name.  A name would be better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.  Well, it’s supporting Tom Riddle and he’s an arse, so I want it destroyed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Portia nodded.  “Your Elf hears your wish, Master, and obeys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Harry could remind her he hated being called Master, something dark and terrifying overtook Portia.  Her wide mouth stretched further, teeth elongating into daggers of crooked bone, her eyes flashes with a predatory glimmer, and knobby hands twisted into nimble claws with too many joints per finger.  The Diadem in her hands warped, twisting itself into a small, misshapen mass of metal and gem.  Then the gems cracked with a sound like a cruel laugh, and the metal tore with a scream.  She opened her mouth, unhinging her jaw like a snake, her face folded in impossible ways, and she popped the remains behind those dangerous teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, she looked normal, except for the exaggerated chewing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ummmm.  Was that safe, Portia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite,” she said demurely, patting her lips with a handkerchief.  “For me.  And you.  Portia would never hurt you, Harry Peverell.  It would not have been safe for anyone Portia does not owe loyalty to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can all House Elves do that?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said.  “You couldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry decided asking more wouldn’t get him the answers he wanted, so he nodded and went back to bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>&lt;^&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Portia said later, while they were going over accounts for House Slytherin, “the Elves attached to House Slytherin are well known for discretion magicks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t they be not known in that case?” Harry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well known in the right circles,” she corrected.  “If there are more… late night snacks that should be disposed of, the Slytherin Elves would be happy to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said.  “I’ll make a list.  Um… are you sure it’s safe?  You haven’t felt ill or anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Portia has eaten worse,” she said, picking at the tassel on her pillowcase.  “Portia has eaten better.  It is filling… I wouldn’t want another so soon, but the Elves of Slytherin will have better appetites.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’s that?” he asked, not wanting the answer but knowing he needed it if he was going to make sure he took proper care of the creatures who looked to him for support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They… didn’t leave their Family, but their Family left them.  Became not who they were tied to.  It has been hungry times, for all of us, but especially them.  They hold too many secrets, going into Wizard lands to find food was too great a risk.  The last to do it had to crack his mind and bind his memory to protect his Master’s trust.  Now that you’re here, though… an Elf with a Master has protections.  They can hunt on your orders safely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously I want everyone I’m responsible for to eat, Portia,” Harry said.  “Why am I having to specify that?  Have the others been waiting for my say so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we’ve been taking care of it,” she said.  “And the Hufflepuff Elves have been assisting the Slytherin Elves since you took the rings.  But they need a good hunt more than we do, to feel proper again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Harry said.  “I’ll get the list ready for you to take to them.  And the next batch of potions.  We need a better set up for brewing them than the storage cupboard in the kitchen.  I’m half tempted to ask Myrtle if we can share her bathroom, but with the Chamber there I’m not sure it’s safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Portia gave him a Look, but his free time was almost up and he needed to get to Dinner, and then the Hufflepuff Game Night.  They could talk later.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There are indeed French chickens with blue feet.  Max is from a fairly creative neighborhood in general, a lot of artists and free thinkers, people who would in the American scheme of things have been hippies a decade ago and are not mainly settling down for their kids, so raising fancy chickens as a hobby is one of the less weird things in the area.  That said, roosters ARE assholes and they crow all the goddamn time.</p><p>Technically Harry is right, it's not cheating if it works, and Hannah isn't actually of the belief you have to do things the hard way to be 'fair', she's just teasing by being pedantic.</p><p>Lily wanted to be the one who showed her friends the Cool Thing. She's hearing Harry's vagueness as that he hasn't been there and it makes her happy because she still gets to be the One Who Found Shit.  Harry i letting her because he both wants her to be happy and it helps protect his future knowledge.</p><p>The Come and Go Room is another name for the Room of Requirement.</p><p>The original Elves, even before the Shoemaker Elves, were terrifying predators of loose magic. They're why the Wizarding World didn't attain total control over the Muggle World at any point in history. The natural counterbalance to Wizards. Then, like Cats, some evolved naturally into a more domestic form, attaching to families as steady sources of food. They became the Shoemaker Elves, who were later cursed to make the House Elves.  Part of why being freed is so taboo is that original connection to Wild Elves, who were beholden to no Wizard and had the general hunting capabilities of black footed sand cats.</p><p>Harry is a House Elf for all purposes as far as their culture goes. He is physically a wizard, though, and that means he can't eat magic.  Thus Portia says not all Elves can eat magic, since it's a biologically Elvish trait, and not all House Elves have Elvish biology.</p><p>If you've read Girl Genius, the Slytherin House Elves are Jagermonsters waiting for their Heterodyne to return.  I may actually make some of them slight crossover characters because Maxim, Dimo, and Oggie are joy.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Twelve: Concerning the Introduction of Interesting People.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter Twelve: Concerning the Introduction of Interesting People</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry meets the Slytherin Elves, chaos ensues.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the long wait, dear readers.  The last few months were super busy and I haven't managed to get as much writing done.  However, we're here now with a new chapter, and hopefully your comments and feedback will feed the Muses and allow another chapter to be written.</p><p>And now the Love Fest!  We had a ton of kudos this time, so let's give a shout out to them first!  ireallydowritelikeimrunningoutoftime, AngryLizzard, Ziggysmallz, Heyimpuppy, CatRose13, Shnoognfire, iopenattheclose1909, Imtroublesome, mystormygirl1, coolio_beans, Mangal2012, Cheesiebrie, Eternal_Snow_Of_Life, ThoseWhoDanceInTheShadows, Yuuka21, flammeinderdunkelheit, WinterFriends, saya1998, Patronus_Vents, PricklyCactus9922, jeeperscreepers, YamYamMay, Dyldarling22198, Talcatraz, isaz_kenaz, NotACop, DonKoogrr, KaraTutiiro, Ragan, InfinityStar886, Autumn_Wind19, Yukikawa, The13books, RedBear5, JulesJellyBeans, Suzalia, The_Girl_Who_Read, stabthesoup, Enixfla, KindaPinkish, Fuzzi, BeforeMyCessation, shadowedLife, Kaloryn, ChyanneBlue, YashaVelvettree, Werekoyote, Kaykat_the_couchsitter, Arlyphant, Icarus_J_Eton, kitsunez, TheGreatandTerribleMe, Athena_The_Alto, Gaypuff, thealmightytrashdeity, Spiritedaway1997, angeliceyes24245, ignoreme_imaduck, Mermaid_Painter, Lozzzz15, YsabelTriana, LeseRatte17, Ana0704, Hillarity, jane_advt, mikeraven, Riddle_Master_101, deathnoteno1fan, idiot_xp, NobleAzure, Ryn_Tak, Michy19mj, weslane, Mirikodoesthings, Krispydefendorpolice, Shunters, spedicorn, Pandanonymous, Undertone, drifting_melody, ItsBiancaNeve, icarus_into_the_sun, kaisen, rat_idiot_central, and crypticBinary.</p><p>For commenting, I want to thank pclauink, ValkyriePhoenix, Krispydefendorpolice, Trickster32, FantasyTLOU, IantoLives, Pigeonat, biblioworm, Joey99, willowfire, Ginniebear, Beccaworm, Obsessedandlovingit, ClockWeasel, mikeraven, YsabelTriana, Ziggysmallz, and ireallydowritelikeimrunningoutoftime.</p><p>And an especially big shout out to MetaCapricorn who pointed out a possible flaw in my attempts to salvage this world from JKR's racism.  I'm always working to get better, and if anyone can think of a name for the Goblin Known As Griphook that does NOT hearken to either antisemitic prejudice or Semitic culture, I'd appreciate it since I really struggled to de-stereotype the goblins and it didn't necessarily work.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It would be almost March before they had that talk.  Partly February was just an unreasonably short month and the professors had gotten back into the swing of grading so there were more assignments to be done, and partly Harry specifically had been busy.  The fruits of that busy time came through shortly after Valentines, when Harry sought out Prefect Witwiff after school in the Hufflepuff common room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Witwiff, here’s the House cut for this month,” he said, setting a small sack on the side table by his prefect’s preferred overstuffed armchair.  “I triple checked the math, it should be all there, same rate as my tutoring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is substantially more than you make tutoring, unless you’ve taken on some new blue-bloods,” Witwiff said, hefting the bag.  “Or unless you’ve decided to have one over on me and this is in knuts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s a mix,” Harry said.  “I decided to diversify.  I started with the muggleborns, since I know they’ll use the products, so then I had to convert pounds and pence over, but some of the third years in Muggle Studies were willing to buy them off me.  Then the non-muggleborns who have muggle born friends started in.  I expect next month I’ll get most of the school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t selling drugs, are you?” Witwiff asked, eyebrow raised delicately.  “I know we have a reputation as… laid back, but we don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to traffic in unseemly herbology.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry laughed.  “Not drugs.  Pens.  And pencils, and erasers, and notebooks and a strangely large amount of duct tape and safety pins.  I miscalculated on the demand, I need Portia to get me more of both and highlighters, I got requests.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Witwiff said more than asked, and Harry realized the prefect wasn’t a muggleborn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Muggle school supplies,” he clarified.  “The wizarding world is using a lot of really antiquated tools for basic tasks and frankly I would have given my left hand for a basic ballpoint the first few months I was here.  Quills are hard to use and messy, and parchment is hard to keep organized notes on, and nothing magical replaces the ability to mark out small sections of text in a bright color so it’s easier to find.  I’m importing things and selling them at a small markup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Witwiff said.  “And this is the same percent the House takes for your tutoring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Prefect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take half of it back, we arranged your tutoring, this you did on your own.  Our cut is smaller.  Also, game nights have been getting stale, can you procure some muggle games?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I’ll have Ms. Taylor get a selection.  What’s your budget?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just take the lot back and use the remainder.  It’s for the House anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>&lt;^&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Portia,” Harry said later that week, during their meeting about the import business, “You said something about the Slytherin House Elves… but I don’t think I’ve met any.  Can we change that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Master Harry.”  Harry frowned at her use of the title.  She wagged one knobby finger at him.  “It will be important you not flinch from that word.  The Slytherin Elves have been without for a long time, and they will need to establish some things for themselves.  Fighting them will only make things more awkward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Portia,” Harry sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, how many bottles of the Freeing Potion do you have for sending out?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two dozen.  We can usually get out one a day each, and two on Saturday, but it’s only been a week since the last batch went to Buttons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep making them, and store them.  They will be very much helping the Slytherin Elves, and others, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>&lt;^&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it came time to receive more of the goods Harry was importing to Hogwarts, his friends insisted on coming too.  He’d told them the Slytherin Elves were coming tonight, so over lunch they’d planned to sneak out of their dorms and meet him before the Elves arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry and Max met Sev and Hannah  on the stairs up to the hall where the Room of Requirement was.  Once again, Harry wished for the invisibility cloak, but with this many of them it wouldn’t have done much good.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had almost made it to the seventh floor before they found trouble, in the form of Mrs. Norris.  Not the same Mrs. Norris Harry knew, cats didn’t live that long.  This Mrs. Norris was a pure white short-hair with blue eyes that seemed to burrow into your soul.  She had cornered Remus and was starting the whine that meant a full fledged, Filtch-alerting wail was about to begin.  Harry pulled Sev and Max down to crouch on the stairs, looking over the edge of the top step at the scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got this,” Max whispered, and scooted up to the top step to make pst-pst-pst sounds at her, wiggling his fingers.  Mrs. Norris looked entirely unimpressed and turned back to Remus</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we going to do?” Hannah whispered.  “If Filtch catches us, we can kiss any free time goodbye, and there goes our potion time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can always eat her,” suggested a voice.  Harry looked over to see an Elf he didn’t know, large eyes set in a sharp, hungry face, the wide mouth curling in a grin that sent a shiver to his toes.  “We is always hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not eating Filtch’s cat,” Harry said sternly.  “He’s bad enough now, imagine what happens when he’s got nothing left he cares about.  Mrs. Norris is the only thing keeping him from snapping and burning this place down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to save Remus,” Sev said.  “He’s our friend.  If he gets caught… does Filtch know?  If he finds out, will he keep it secret?  If anyone else finds out, will Remus get expelled?  Not saving him isn’t an option.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well fuck.  Sev had a point.  Of all of them, Remus could risk getting caught least of all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I say go, grab Remus and get to the Room,” Harry ordered.  His friends nodded.  He looked at the strange new Elf.  “Get them there safe, defend it if need be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Master,” the Elf said, the hissing sibilants resonating like parseltongue.  “Come children, you will be safe with Maxy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s Max,” Hannah said.  “Pick a nickname.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maxim,” the Elf said amicably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go!” Harry shouted, and raced toward Mrs. Norris.  She did what any cat would do when being rushed at by an eleven year old with no fear of her claws.  She ran.  Unfortunately, she took a blind turn into a dead end, and when she came back out, at speed, Harry was in her way.  She shot up his leg and onto his shirt, and all Harry could do to avoid being gutted was hug her close and keep running.  If he could get far enough away from the Room and the others, it wouldn’t matter if he was caught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, the blood soaking his shirt was a different issue.  He was wondering if he should head towards the hospital wing when something grabbed him and yanked him into an empty classroom.  He landed on his back, looking up at James Potter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got somewhere to be Peverell?” James asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” Harry sighed, sitting up.  He located the worst cut on his belly and put and hand over it, muttering healing charms.  His wand was still in the holster on his wrist, but for something simple like this he didn’t need it.  “Just please avoid the gut, Potter.  The suture spell takes some time to set up and I don’t want to have to do it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Peter asked.  He looked genuinely confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… you’re going to beat me up, yeah?” Harry asked.  “I have cat scratches all over me, but the suture spell to seal them will break if you hit my gut too hard, so… please don’t.  You don’t want blood on you, either, so it’ll work better for everyone if you focus on arms, legs, back… head if you want, I don’t care if I get a black eye, although it’s harder to hide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… want us to beat you?” Sirius asked, his own face pulling a disgusted contortion Harry recalled from the summer cleaning out Grimmauld Place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not about want, now is it?” Harry said with a shrug, taking the opportunity to roll up his pants and do a round of charms on his legs.  He hissed as it sealed the long strip of flesh missing on his right shin.  “You’re bullies, I’m weird, you caught me alone and injured… I know what happens next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not going to beat you up!” James barked.  “Great Merlin, where did you get the idea we were monsters?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry narrowed his eyes at him.  “Your hobby is torturing my friends.  You take every chance you get to verbally abuse Sev, you invade Remus’ privacy pretty frequently, and Lily doesn’t like you.  Lily likes everyone, so you had to have done </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  You almost killed Hannah once, and need I remind you you’ve threatened me physically before?  You didn’t succeed, but this is a much better battleground for you than that was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James gaped like a fish out of water.  Harry rolled his eyes as somehow, all this information finally caught up with James.  He turned to Sirius instead.  “I’ve heard about your family,” he said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m nothing like them,” Sirius snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could have fooled me,” Harry said.  “You like kicking down, but you’re too scared to punch up.  You want to prove you’re not like them?  Try not being an arse, and letting this one know when he’s being an arse, so he bloody well stops.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius blinked back tears.  Harry nodded to him and looked at Peter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You planning to do that to me, then?” Peter asked.  “For someone bleeding on the floor you hit pretty hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the fact that you see that as hitting is why I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hit you,” Harry said with a grin.  “I didn’t want to like you, to be honest.  You reminded me of someone who hurt me pretty bad, and I kept looking for him in you.  I found where he started, maybe, the seeds of someone like that, but I also saw something that reminds me of one of the bravest people I ever knew.  I’m really hoping you can be like Neville, the world would be a better place if more people were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter turned red, and for a second Harry thought he’d angered him, like Vernon turned red when he was particularly enraged.  But it was a blush, and Harry awkwardly broke eye contact to check in on James.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was a total wanker…” the boy muttered.  Harry rolled his eyes again and stood up, gingerly testing the sutures.  “No wonder you didn’t like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Duh, nobody likes people who are wankers to their friends,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But everyone likes me,” James insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you rich?” Harry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a yes,” Peter said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re athletic.  Charming, because your parents taught you how to be.  Smart, but not insufferable about it.”  Harry sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>like you, they like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>image</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  What’s more, you don’t even like you, because you also only look at the image.  When you pick on Sev, you don’t attack </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you attack the image he puts out.  Long hair, greasy skin, old clothes, a passion for a subject that naturally involves some strong odours, and oh yeah, he’s a Slytherin.  You pegged him as a punching bag before you knew anything about him.  I grew up in a house full of people like you, but you know what?  I’m tired.  I am so fucking tired of holding it together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sat down again, wrapping his knees in his arms.  “I am so tired of being the one who solves everything.  I don’t want this job any more, I don’t know why I have to do it, but apparently the world can’t spin without dropping shit on the Boy Who Lived.  I’m tired, and I just want it to stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft hand landed on his shoulder.  “You’re freaking weird, Peverell,” James said.  “But you’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hands off the Master!” ordered a voice.  It was another new Elf, his rags a dark shade that made Harry think of chimneys and attics and close tight spaces.  A knobby fingered hand presented an old floral handkerchief, and Harry blew his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master,” the new Elf said, half asking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the introduction I’d hoped for,” Harry said wetly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They never are,” said the Elf.  “Not with the people worth knowing, the interesting ones.  Deem is thanking Master most sincerely for the potions.  They is being very helpful.  Should we leave these ones here, Master, and be elsewhere for talkings?  Or do you want Deem make examples?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t lay a finger on me in violence,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean they wasn’t violent,” Deem said, but he shrugged.  “Come, we is meeting now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world lurched and Harry was sitting in a comfortable chair by a fire in the Room of Requirement.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter Thirteen: Of Meetings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry finally meets the Slytherin Elves.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love Fest!<br/>For comments:<br/>Izumi_Lily, pclauink, balloongal247, win18, Athena_The_Alto, Lightseed, Joey99, FantasyTLOU, Little_Paws, Wentley, ValkyriePhoenix, Trickster32, gerometer, HappyTr33, Brilala106, kjoboo, biblioworm, willowfire, Ginniebear, ClockWeasel, mhairitherese16, DessDaily, Gbadvocate09, Mads, IantoLives, 221Blinkandyouredead, hhhellcat, Darling_Angel, selenaquana, marbarand, joeriezeilany, Celestelemuria, KaraTutiiro, and Cirrat.  (Wow, last chapter got people talking!  I love it.)</p><p>For kudos:<br/>TrishFish7, Shen5891, Vanpath, 4SenNoMe2, Cirrat, riigeekygeek, lostatsea247, RainyStar, zhurikatta, elidurestardust, TheRavenSaidNeverMore, CMC47120, Gibbeum, NNNEERRRDD, martixder, Zula_Rosie, The_girl_from_the_river, Faeriekit, ren_sama, Cordypuff01, Jemmacatt14, BettBoneca, Lerke, QuinnAlayn, Sunny_smile, RLWolf, leemork, AetherDamanik, NeedSomePoison, joeriezeilany, anelram, bleeblezees, autumnsolace, AquilaTreadway, marbarand, JaneDoe93, kittykitten02, ademonfromgayhell, Unalokos, SuzannaKH, Aquarell, Dishyon, Murderouslord, greenandgrayaros, ryya_ikki, Homosexual_dinosaur, legacy40, LilDestructionLord, piratehnter, selenaquana, Fectless, Pandastar01, 221Blinkandyouredead, amysds, 7YOURSELFMYSELF7, HadesCat, UndisputedPokerChamp, Ravenclawtimelordinamindpalace, bookbuggg, AlexandrinaKaulitz, Versipellis, Lefty_Kat, lovewaterlilly, TeethTheDinosaur, punk_moss, Brenden1k, OverflowedStress, MonnyPenny, Ms_Booklover_05, Soulfilled, Loneeagle, Fandomlife23, Fanfic_Addict_No_1, B89498iu536, BookloverForInfinity, DessDaily, Firestarlily, Angie210705, Abrexis, Yanna_of_the_Forest, mopi92, wannabe_lolita, damightymidget, kjoboo, Redqueen1239, SomethingOrOtherIDontKnow, HappyRea, SquealingDumpling, IAmNotCreativeEnoughForThis, Berusicka, bladehuntress, Lckychrms, Trinket961, Rixesppha, and Izumi_Lily.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Oh good, you found him!” Portia said, and patted Deem between his slightly ragged ears.  He blushed and muttered, but then she was hovering over Harry, working Elvish magic on his cuts.  It stung more than his own charms, but worked much quicker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, this is the Master?” asked a third Elf, one Harry hadn’t seen.  His rags were a tea-stain yellow, and included a bandanna type arrangement over his head, pinning his ears down and back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to meet you, finally,” Harry said, wiggling away from Portia’s fussing.  “I really hope the potions help.  Nobody should have to feel that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make them yourself, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not alone,” Harry said.  “Sev and Remus help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sev is the other one who tastes like Elf,” Maxim provided helpfully.  “Remus is the Good Boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Remus protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not wrong, though,” Hannah said.  “And for reasons that have nothing to do with your fluffier times of month.  You’re the nice one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re <em>all</em> nice,” Remus protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh,” Lily said, wiggling a hand.  “Max and I are rather bloodthirsty, to be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I love Sev but he only uses manners if he wants something,” Max pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s what they’re FOR!” Sev protested.  “And Hannah is nice until she isn’t.  For us, sure, she’s sweet cream and sunshine.  For anyone on her shitlist?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same goes for Harry,” Hannah said with a nod.  “Which is why Remus is the nice one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master hits like Porty hits,” Deem said to Maxim and the third Elf, who whistled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is compliment, Master, a big one,” he said.  “I be Ogg the Elder.  Porty said you is having a list of tasty things you wants eaten?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Harry said, handing him the paper.  His friends looked oddly at him.  He looked at Ogg.  “It’s up to you if we explain or not.  If I tell them to drop it, they will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, the other Elf, maybe, but not the others,” Ogg said.  Harry nodded.  “If this list be good, we can pull in our reserves.  Give Slytherin House her guard again.  That would be good.  Too long the House goes without a worthy Master.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do my best,” Harry swore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will,” Ogg agreed, and it sounded strangely violent, an implied ‘or else’ hanging in the silence between them.  Ogg laughed as Harry set his face to passive neutrality to avoid showing the rising panic in his gut.  “You will do </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> well.  And the potions, they is helping very much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” Harry said with a sigh of relief.  “We’ll keep making them as long as we can get the ingredients.  Over the summer I can work more on them, even if I have to do it alone, although… it would be helpful to have more people who can work on them.  If Sev and Remus can come over during the summer holidays, we could do more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will have to ask Mother,” Sev said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents almost didn’t let me come to Hogwarts,” Remus added.  “But if they can come too, then maybe they’ll say yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, the house is </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge,</span>
  </em>
  <span> there’s more than enough room,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>&lt;^&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Harry, can we talk a bit?” Sev asked after the Hufflepuff-Slytherin Quidditch game.  It was the least rivalry-prone game of the possible matchups, so Harry hadn’t minded attending, for all that he’d sort of lost interest in school Quidditch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Sev, anytime,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did they mean that I… tasted like an Elf?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed.  “I don’t fully understand it myself, but the Elves don’t seem to think of themselves as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>species</span>
  </em>
  <span>, per se.  At least, they don’t seem to think about it the </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> we do.  From what I can tell, anyone who has enough experience behaving like a House Elf is considered an Elf, regardless of biology.  So they count me, and apparently you, as Elves, and they say that by saying we taste like Elves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we’re not… we never,” Sev trailed off and stared into the middle distance.  “Well fuck, they’re right.  So what was that about tasty things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Born Elves eat magic,” Harry said.  “I saw Portia do it once, it was… something.  Apparently they usually just eat the discarded magic that ends up on anything wizards handle for an extended time, but bigger magic items are more filling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you gave them a list of magic items it’s okay to eat?”  Sev nodded to himself.  “Makes sense.  I wonder if the Ministry knows about this.  It’d be easier to get rid of dangerous artifacts if we just gave them to Elves to snack on.  Unless they shouldn’t eat Dark Magic, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> see it ending up poison.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope it’s not poison,” Harry grumbled.  He decided to change the subject, since he didn’t exactly want to explain that he’d watched Portia eat part of Tom Riddle’s soul.  “Anyways, the Hufflepuff game night is tonight, if you want to come.  Ms. Taylor has a friend who makes games for Muggles, and she got us a copy of his new thing to test out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Sev agreed.  Then he rolled his eyes.  “I just have to keep Lulu from finding out I was playing a Muggle game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry coughed, and was briefly thankful he hadn’t been eating or drinking anything this time.  Sev’s increasingly ridiculous nicknames for his Prefect were getting to be almost competitive, especially if Hannah was nearby, and a few times the two of them had caused their friends to inhale lunches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Harry said with a shrug, “you could go the other direction with that.  Just invite him to the game night, and watch him struggle between not wanting to upset Witwiff and not wanting to admit Muggle things can be fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Sev said.  “Hey race you to the castle!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:<br/>Lulu: Lucius Malfoy.</p><p> </p><p>There were very few notes since this was mostly exposition, but if you'd like a clarification added, just ask!</p><p> </p><p>Tune in next time for Chapter Fourteen: In Which the Game is Afoot.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments feed the muse!  The author invites conversation, constructive criticism, and even generic "extra kudos" comments, and will likely reply to most comments.  Replying to the Author's replies is welcome, but not required.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>